


E Pluribus Unum: Peerless Bow

by Kyogre



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, it's America Singularity but with more Indian Servant screentime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 92,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyogre/pseuds/Kyogre
Summary: The North American Myth War. But not exactly the same.Arjuna and Sita, the most unlikely combination, team up to throw the fifth Singularity into chaos. For Servants and humans, the end point is already determined. However, the journey is up to each to create for themselves.
Relationships: Arjuna | Archer & Sita | Archer, Fujimaru Ritsuka & Mash Kyrielight | Shielder, Rama | Saber/Sita | Archer
Comments: 116
Kudos: 93





	1. Boy Meets Girl (Arjuna&Sita)

~.~

**Chapter 1: Boy Meets Girl**

The North American Myth War. One of the Singularities that had distorted history and caused the collapse of the Foundation of Humanity, leading to the end of everything. 

The Heroic Spirits summoned into each Singularity were aware of what had transpired. Some fought against it. Some tried to preserve at least some remnant. Some denied the truth and whiled away their time in meaningless distractions. 

And some simply embraced the destruction. No, some had even caused it to begin with. 

The destruction of this era could be laid at the feet of Queen Medb and her Berserker dog. For the sake of her mad wish of destruction, she had willingly doomed humanity and all of its history. 

But so what? 

From the start, when he materialized in this era, Arjuna had decided he was fine with that. The only thing that mattered was that man — and bringing their battle to its true conclusion. They were meant to be in opposition, so there was no other path except to stand against the side he chose. If Karna supported the United Western States, then it was only natural for Arjuna to join the Celtic army. 

Queen Medb had laughed. Cu Chulainn had allowed it, indifferent. 

For the moment, Karna remained in the fortress at Denver, guarding the leadership of the West army. Thus, Arjuna remained on standby as well, unwilling and disinterested in otherwise aiding the Celts’ war efforts. This was allowed, out of sheer indifference to his existence. Whether he aided, did nothing or fought against them, Cu Chulainn didn’t care. 

“I’ll lay waste to this land. Whether or not you fight the West army doesn’t matter because they are all just dead men walking,” the Berserker had said indifferently, barely looking at Arjuna. “It’s just a matter of when. And if you’re thinking of pulling some trick, that doesn’t matter either. I’ll just kill you.” 

Perhaps it should have been insulting, but Arjuna didn’t care about them either. 

The halls of Washington DC were nearly deserted, the Celts placing little emphasis on defences even in their captured capital. No other Servants remained in the city, only returning to report on their progress or to receive orders from the king and queen. Their appearance was the only thing to draw Arjuna out of his solitude, waiting on news of the West army’s movements — Karna’s movements. 

The ones to return this time were the two Lancers who operated together, bound together by the ties of their mortal lives. They managed the northwest front, far from Denver, so Arjuna had little interest in them, and it was only with some reluctance that he made his way to the throne room. 

But... 

There was a third person with them. 

Between Fionn mac Cumhaill in the lead and Diarmuid Ua Duibhne bringing up in the rear, there was a young woman. Her short figure almost dwarfed between the two men, but her bright crimson hair like fire immediately drew the eye. 

Standing almost unnoticeably to one side, Arjuna stared in shock, his face frozen stiff in his usual mask of indifference. 

This person... this person was... 

“Lady Sita?!” he blurted out. 

As everyone turned to stare at him — Medb, Cu Chulainn, Fionn, Diarmuid and Sita herself — Arjuna momentarily closed his eyes, mentally berating himself. 

“Oh? Someone you know?” Medb drew out. Amusement and calculation glinted in her eyes as her lips curled in a smile without warmth. Her fingers curled around the handle of her riding crop, stroking it gently. 

“No,” Arjuna corrected quickly. “She is simply someone any hero from India would recognize — Lady Sita, the wife of Rama.” 

This was not strictly speaking true. While any Indian hero would know her name and legend, recognizing her on sight was another matter. But Arjuna absolutely, definitely couldn’t explain why he did. He would never, ever admit the real reason. It was just too ridiculous to say that he had seen a figurine of her on Hanuman’s favorite bananas and that Hanuman, in one of the rare times the monkey god had spoken casually to Arjuna, had bragged quite a bit about his old friend Rama’s kind, beautiful, wise, virtuous, exceptional wife. 

‘What, you think these bananas look good? Well, you can’t have any! These are my favorite brand!’ Hanuman had declared. ‘And look at this cute mascot — that’s Lady Sita, you know! Isn’t she beautiful? You know, she...’ 

Something flickered momentarily across Sita’s face, and she looked away from him, impassively gazing once more into the middle distance as if unaware of her surroundings. 

“Is that so... It must have been chain summoning. I suppose it’s not a surprise more of you were brought along to this land too,” Mebd said, her dangerous interest waning. Leaning back, she gestured carelessly toward the two Knights of Fianna. “So, why did you bring her? Does she want to join our great kingdom as well?” Humming, she tapped her chin. “Luckily, I’m a generous queen. I’ll allow even other women, as long as they’re obedient.” 

“That is the case, but also not entirely, my queen,” Fionn said, smiling calmly. “We offered the lady here the chance to surrender, and she wisely accepted.” 

Whether she had first fought or not was not particularly relevant. Even with the powers granted to her as a Heroic Spirit, Sita did not have the battle experience to match either of them, and together, backed by Medb’s endless troops, would have outnumbered her as well. There were many heroes who might choose to fight to the death regardless, but a surrender was indeed the wiser choice. 

“I don’t really care how you go about conquering this country, but I don’t remember giving you permission to take prisoners,” Medb said. “They’d just be a waste of space. Don’t you agree, my king? What do you think, Cu?” 

Cu Chulainn glanced at her without interest. His gaze slid toward Sita but did not linger before he looked away again. “That name sounds familiar. Did I hear it before...? Well, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you kill her or not.” 

His bald statement hung heavily in the air, leaving no one quite able to continue. 

The tension in himself that Arjuna had tried to ignore twisted and intensified, making him grit his teeth. He had already decided that this was his course and he would discard everything for this. No matter what happened in front of him, it didn’t matter. Even if there was something he owed to someone, even if this was not right, it didn’t matter. 

But. But... 

Although it was her fate being discussed so coldly, Sita showed no reaction. Silently, she waited, her face calm and inscrutable. 

“Going that far... Wouldn’t it be such a waste?” Fionn chuckled. “She’s such a valiant beauty. My heart was truly moved. Ah, it’s a shame to hear such a fine woman is already taken by another. If only...” He sighed dramatically. “Won’t you reconsider, beautiful heroine from the faraway land?” 

“I will not,” Sita said, speaking up for the first time. She did not turn to look at him. “I am a married woman, and my heart remains with Lord Rama.” 

Clicking his tongue, Fionn shook his head. “A shame,” he repeated. “But your loyalty only adds to your beauty. I gave my word that I would accept your surrender. It is a matter of pride for me as a Knight of Fianna.” He bowed respectfully to the woman lounging across an ostentatious throne that was completely out of place in the former chambers of the American president. “My queen, I can only beg your indulgence.” 

“Hm...” Medb drew out a neutral sound, making them wait for her decision. “Well,” she said finally, “that’s fine. There are uses for a hostage, and we just happen to have captured a prison on the far coast. You can take her there. But be quick about it, won’t you?” 

“As you command,” Fionn said, bowing again, deeper. Behind him, Diarmuid did the same. “We will return—” 

“There’s no need.” 

This time, he didn’t blurt it out on accident, even if he couldn’t have explained exactly why he spoke up. When everyone in the throne room turned toward him once more, Arjuna squared his shoulders and gazed back firmly. 

“There’s no need. I will take Lady Sita to Alcatraz,” he said. 

There was no reason for him to interfere. But there was also no reason not to, he told himself. The time to travel there and back would hardly make a difference. 

Fionn smiled, a mask that hid his true feelings. “You don’t trust me?” he said lightly. 

Naturally not. Trust wasn’t something anyone in the Celtic army possessed, but especially not an outsider like Arjuna, whether trust toward him from others or trust he gave to them. 

“Well, perhaps you’re right!” Fionn laughed after a moment. “I do have a way of finding trouble with women, and Diarmuid is even worse. I’m sure Lady Sita will feel better accompanied by a countryman — and you’ll enjoy her company more than ours!” 

There was doubtlessly meant to be a subtle jab or two in there, but the more worrying part was the way Medb tittered along in affected amusement. Her eyes, narrowed into cat-like slits, lingered on Arjuna, reminding him that she had always said, from the beginning, that the only one she needed was her Cu. With the power of the Holy Grail and her endless armies, their victory was only a matter of time. Every other Servant was just a bonus pawn, easily discarded and without more than a token value. 

Arjuna had been equally indifferent — working with the Celts or fighting alone, his purpose and the outcome wouldn’t change. But the sense of danger still made him tense instinctively. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll allow it!” Medb declared finally, with a bright smile. “After all, it’s a little exciting to see even you swayed by a woman!” 

Ignoring her implications, Arjuna tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

“Understood,” he said. “Then, please excuse us.” 

He never entirely turned his back to her or Cu Chulainn as he made his way over to Sita, Fionn and Diarmuid obligingly falling back. It was impossible to read anything from the former’s bland smile and the latter’s professionally neutral mask. The feeling of expecting an attack that might not come was more burdensome than Arjuna had anticipated. 

When he gestured for Sita to walk ahead, she also gave him an unreadable look but obeyed after a moment, and the two of them finally departed from the repurposed throne room. 

The sound of the doors shutting behind them was a relief. 

The halls of the White House were empty, and the two of them walked in silence, falling in step. It went without saying that, even with only one opponent left now, there was no point in Sita trying to escape. Arjuna didn’t know her exact parameters, but he didn’t expect they were equal to his. The outcome of any attempt to fight or even just distract him and run was predetermined, it went without saying. 

...Although perhaps it needed to be said, just in case. Even if he could overpower her, Arjuna had no desire to fight Sita. It was the opposite. The thought was uncomfortable — though he was used to that. It would be better to make sure she was aware of it as well. 

When he glanced at Sita with the intent of warning her of just that, the queen of Kosala looked back with a cold, emotionless mask that didn’t quite hide the tension and unease at the corners of her eyes. 

What was the meaning of that look? It couldn’t be that she... 

“The things they were saying are just baseless mocking. I have no intentions of that sort toward you!” Arjuna said in a rush, feeling a flush of embarrassment at even addressing the subject. “Please don’t worry, Lady Sita. This is only...” 

He couldn’t help hesitating, realizing there was nothing comforting he could say. 

“Only temporary,” he finally said, after an obvious pause. 

Sita’s even gaze felt very piercing, almost as much as that man’s. It might have been easier if she had reacted with anger or accusations, but she only said calmly, “I understand. I do not doubt your integrity, although... I must confess I cannot recognize you. My apologies.” 

“No, it’s only to be expected. We have not met,” Arjuna said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “I am Arjuna.” 

“Ah...” Sita made a soft sound of surprise, her eyes widening. “The Hero of the Endowed? But you...” 

Arjuna steeled himself for the inevitable accusations. What was he doing? Why had he sided with the Celts? Why was he opposing the preservation of humanity? Why wouldn’t he help her? It would be only natural to ask those things, but he couldn’t give an answer. All he could say was a weak ‘I have my reasons,’ and endure her well-deserved anger and scorn... 

“I see,” Sita murmured. 

That was all. 

She averted her gaze and didn’t say anything else, or ask anything at all. 

“...” Unable to say anything in return, Arjuna finally turned away and gestured for her to follow him out of the White House. 

~.~ 

**Notes:** I decided to discard all shame and all concerns for characterization. The most important thing about FGO fic should be who you’re horny for! (Please note, there are no pairings in this fic aside from canon Rama/Sita.) 

-Gonna keep the chapters short, since I am deeply unsure about the pacing for this. 

-The NA chapter titles for E Pluribus Unum are mostly movie references, so I’ll try that too (although I don’t really know “classic” movies well lol.) 

-The thing with Hanuman’s bananas having a small charm of Sita on them is from Rama’s Valentines Day CE. 

-Arjuna has a voice line about Rama, about how it’s an honor to fight with him. It’s cute. 

-I will confess right now that I haven’t read either the Ramayana or Mahabharata. Still, I will be trying to include a few details, Fate-style. 


	2. The World is Not Enough (Arjuna&Sita)

~.~.

**Chapter 2: The World is Not Enough**

Originally, the Singularity had been based on the state of North America during the war of the British colonies for their independence and the founding of the future world power. The areas to the north and south, to say nothing of other continents, had fallen outside the Holy Grail’s influence and simply did not exist. 

However, as the Singularity began to destabilize, fragments of other eras intruded — cities that would not be founded for decades, lands that had remained uncharted to the founders of the United States... Edison’s appearance had only added to that, as his perception of a future nation made population points he believed in materialize in the regions under the Presi-King’s control. 

Alcatraz was one such location. Historically, the first military fort there was not meant to exist for almost a century more, but the famous prison had appeared fully formed and complete when Medb’s forces managed to break through in the north and seize the mostly empty far west all the way to the Pacific coast. 

Even with the speed and stamina of Servants, traversing the actual United States from Washington to California would have been a prolonged affair, but the unstable nature of the landscape somewhat shortened the distance. The long stretches of uninhabited land had a way of being folded up and compressed into only impressions of the real distance, without the weight of human observation to anchor them. 

No, it wasn’t right to say that these areas had been uninhabited or unknown. Even unmapped by colonists, there should have been native tribes and nations to confirm their existence. But for some reason, Medb’s forces had never encountered any of the native people, as if they had been erased from history. 

Perhaps that was what had happened. Anything was possible, when humanity was already gone. 

As the sun sank below the horizon, Arjuna led the way under a stone overhang that was not quite a cave. A minor leyline was close to the surface there, making it a convenient place for Servants to recover their magical energy. They didn’t need anything else like food or sleep, so on his own, Arjuna would have simply meditated on the bare rock until dawn — or just continued traveling all through the night. 

Offering the same to Lady Sita, whom he had been taught of as a saint during his lifetime, felt utterly insufficient. 

“I will prepare a fire,” he said, as Sita settled silently on one of the stones. Mentally, he calculated the likelihood of finding some game nearby. Neither of them had any supplies for preparing it, of course, but he had made do before at various points in his life. 

But to make do in front of such a personage… 

“It’s alright,” Sita said. Something quickly passed over her face, only to be immediately smothered, as if she had intended to offer a comforting smile before belatedly realizing it was not suitable. “There is no need to trouble yourself, Lord Arjuna. I have also lived in exile, and I am also a Servant. This is… enough.” 

Even if she said that, this much could not even be called the meager hospitality of a beggar. To Lord Rama’s wife, Arjuna owed at least—

Realizing the absurdity of his thoughts, Arjuna stopped in his tracks. 

What was he even doing? What kind of ‘hospitality’ could he offer someone he was helping imprison? 

“M... mn,” he made a vague sound of agreement and, without saying any further foolishness, settled down as well. 

They were not the first ones to use this spot to rest during a journey. Though there were no recent signs of humans, the inner walls of the small hollow were decorated with faded paintings in white, gray and ochre that had been left behind by the native people of the land. Just like the landscape and the shapes of the mountains, their style was completely alien to Arjuna, and he looked away, toward the darkened sky. 

But that was no more familiar, not marred as it was by the slowly turning ring of light. 

Instinctively, he knew that was a thing of destruction, tied to humanity’s end. The proof that the world’s destruction had already been decided. 

He closed his eyes and tried to settle the unease that swelled in his heart. 

Unfortunately, that would not be possible. 

“Lord Arjuna.” At the sound of Sita’s voice, he had no choice but to look at her. Her gaze was calm and clear, and very piercing. As expected of Lady Sita herself... “There is something I wish to ask. Won’t you answer?” she went on. “Why is it that you are fighting here, on that queen’s side?” 

“I have my reasons,” Arjuna replied quickly and coldly, having long since been bracing himself for this question. 

Sita nodded. “Of course,” she agreed. “But what are those reasons? Do you… wish for the destruction of the world?” 

It was not an illogical guess, given what he was doing. And there were certainly Heroic Spirits that came to despise the world itself after their deaths. There was no judgement in Sita’s expression either, as if she would accept even that answer. However, Arjuna couldn’t help subtly bristling. 

“That is not the case. I don’t care about it at all. If it is the world’s fate to perish, then it should perish. It has already ended, so there is no purpose in holding back,” he declared. “My reason is… that is…” 

Despite the strong tone of his first words, he trailed off toward the end, unsure whether he wanted to reveal it. He hated letting others see into his heart, must less revealing it himself. And yet, there was a certain debt he owed to Lord Rama, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to dismiss Lady Sita so easily. 

No, if his heart was filled with this much hesitation, then he had to reveal it — and prove his resolve. 

“There is a person,” Arjuna said quietly, “who is fighting to save this world. And above all else, I must oppose him. I must stand opposite him. It was so in our lives, and it has been so in every Holy Grail War. No matter how many times I seek him out, my heart cannot be settled until I defeat him once and for all. To face him is my driving purpose.” 

Just from that, there was no doubt Sita would know whom he was referring to. But, pursuing her lips faintly, she did not speak that name. 

“And you must join this army for that? It is not enough to seek him out and face him?” she asked, strangely lacking in accusation. 

“It is not enough,” Arjuna said firmly. “That is the balance between us. If he supports it, then I will oppose it. Facing him as an enemy is as it should be. If he fights to protect it, then I will fight to destroy it. If he stands with good, I will stand with evil. It is my role — no, our roles.” 

Yes, in this time and place… he was evil. He was no longer a hero at all. 

Admitting it was freeing, in a way. But far less than he would have expected. Most clearly, he felt lightheaded and almost nauseous. 

“Our roles…” Sita repeated quietly. “So even here, we can only follow the same path, is that it? Lord Rama and I are also…” 

The story of Ramayana was the story of Rama. It followed him through his life, including his childhood as a prince, his marriage, and his exile. But the most famous part was without a doubt his long war against the Rakshasa king, Ravana. And Sita’s role in this epic was that of a hostage, spirited away across the sea by Ravana and leaving Rama to search for her and fight to reach her. 

Just like now, when she was once more a prisoner, to be locked away and left to wait helplessly. 

“...If it is the same, he will rescue you once more,” Arjuna said awkwardly. “If it is Lord Rama, then I am sure he will reach you before this Singularity collapses, and the two of you will be reunited.”

It was poor comfort, but he didn’t understand why Sita’s expression darkened, something cold and brittle behind her eyes. “It would be good if that were the case,” she murmured. Her gaze drifted down to her hands, clutched tightly in her lap. “But... I do not think it will be like that. You see, there is a curse.” 

“A curse?” Even as he said it, Arjuna recalled something like that as well. 

“We cannot be reunited. We cannot stand side by side. We can never find happiness together,” Sita went on, her voice blunt and painful. “Even when Lord Rama comes, at most, I will see just one glimpse of him, before one of us is cast away from this world by the curse.  _ But I want to see him. _ I want to see him so much.” 

With a ragged breath, she pulled her knees to her chest and hid her face. There was no other sound, not even of her unsteady breathing, but her shoulders shook tellingly. 

Arjuna froze, taken completely off guard. 

For a moment, he flustered between saying something or reaching out, but in the end quickly aborted attempts to do either. Clasping his hands as if to stop himself from doing something foolish, he looked away out into the distance, through the gaps between the stones around their resting place. This was... something he should forget about as soon as it was over. It wasn’t something he should have been seeing. 

The night had settled fully, dyeing the flat plains and the mountains blue and purple instead of their real red hues. Even beyond the glowing ring, the stars were unfamiliar. It had been thousands of years since his time. It was only natural for them to have shifted. 

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. 

Everything had already come to an end. 

It was a long time before the silence was broken. “I want to see him,” Sita repeated. “No matter what, I want to see him again. I think… I would do anything to make that wish come true, anything at all.” 

Arjuna tensed instinctively. Do anything at all — A trap? A sneak attack? A desperate no hold barred struggle to the death, even if it was futile? Desperation could overcome even an insurmountable enemy, but he didn’t think he was in real danger. He was willing to put everything on the line as well, after all. But he didn’t want to fight her to begin with. 

“Lord Arjuna,” Sita said quietly, uncurling but not yet raising her head, “I… can only ask you.” 

...He should have realized. Underhanded tricks were something an upright, pure-hearted person like Lady Sita would never even consider. Instead… 

‘Ah, don’t ask me,’ Arjuna thought, struggling to hide a grimace. ‘For my own wish, I cannot—’ 

“Please,” Sita said firmly. “Please help me join that queen’s army.” 

Huh? 

“Huh?!” With an undignified squawk of surprise, Arjuna whipped around to stare at her. 

Sita didn’t react to this display. If anything, her expression only became more serious and determined when their eyes met. “If we cannot be together, then at the very least, I want to see him — even if it’s across a battlefield!” she insisted. “If we become enemies — if I become Lord Rama’s enemy — then there’s a chance that will subvert the curse. And then we could, I could—!” 

“Th-that… that...” Arjuna floundered. 

That was definitely not possible. 

In the legends, Lady Sita was known for her dedication, self-sacrifice, courage and purity. She was an ideal daughter, an ideal wife and an ideal mother. Despite her long and arduous life, her actions had always been exemplary, never acting in cruelty, carelessness or returning injury even to those that harmed her.

And this person would join Medb’s forces? 

“I know that my power is weak, and I do not have enough to offer,” Sita went, almost feverishly. “That’s why I can only ask you, Lord Arjuna, to help speak for me with that queen. I swear, I will fight without reservation—” 

“Absolutely not! It’s impossible!” Arjuna finally recovered enough to give voice to his thoughts. 

“Why is it not possible?” Sita shot back. “It is as you said, Lord Arjuna — the world has already come to an end! The only thing left is to face our regrets. Even if that means becoming a villain! I have always waited and believed, but just this once, I want to act of my own will! At the very least, I want to see him one more time! I want to at least hear his voice!” 

“No, absolutely not!” Arjuna repeated. “You mustn’t do that! You, of all people, mustn’t!” 

He had said that — but he had said that about himself. He had already seen and even supported countless atrocities in the Kurukshetra War, and he had carried out dishonor himself. It hardly made a difference whether he supported the Celts in their brutal slaughter. He knew clearly that he had long since failed to live up to the proper image of a hero, and ‘becoming a villain’ was just a matter of how he was perceived by the world. 

But that was not the case for Sita. She had not committed any wrongs, whether in her life or surely even as a Heroic Spirit. 

Joining the Celtic forces would mean turning a blind eye to the meaningless, gruesome killing carried out by Medb’s soldiers and especially Cu Chulainn, who had no regard for life or even the rules of engagement. Even without participating, just allowing to come to pass without interfering was enough to twist the heart and soul. 

It left an indelible stain, a sin that could never be lifted.

“Even if you do so, your wish won’t be granted in the end. You’ll just end up betraying yourself and Lord Rama,” Arjuna said forcefully, glaring into the shadows of the shallow cavern. “Do you think you could face him after doing something like that? Please reconsider. You won’t be able to turn back once you step on that path, and you won’t be forgiven. Is that really worth it?” 

Blood thrummed in his ears from agitation and unease. Heated up like that, it took Arjuna a few moments to realize that the silence that followed was not contrite or capitulating. 

Sita’s expression as she regarded him was set with mulish stubbornness, but on her young face, it was too charming to evoke any fear. No, what made Arjuna unsettled was the glimmer of considering intelligence and something almost like a spark of understanding underneath. 

“Lord Arjuna, do you believe that you...” Sita started to say, frowning. 

Arjuna gestured sharply, suddenly unwilling to let her continue. “There is a large difference between us, Lady Sita,” he said. “Do you truly have the resolve to do as you say? Do you think anyone will believe you capable of it? It is impossible. So please... give up.” 

It left a sour taste in his mouth to say so, but what other choice was there? 

It was better if—

Only the reflexes of a lifetime on the battlefield that let him avoid the sudden palm strike at his torso. Knocking it aside at the last instance, Arjuna realized two things. 

One, Sita was not entirely untrained in combat. That had not been the flailing of a complete amateur. The form spoke of training under a sage in a style that had been polished over generations. Two, her raw strength was not less than his — A rank. 

“I won’t give up. This time, even just this once, I will fight,” Sita said. “With this curse, I have all of Lord Rama’s strength, and I will use it to fulfill our wish!” 

That included his A+ agility. Even without the element of surprise, her following attacks were difficult to block. But only due to their speed. As Arjuna had first thought, Sita did not have any experience in combat, and it wasn’t long before he saw through the style she had been trained in and could roughly predict it. 

That was the difference between a warrior and simply a Servant. 

Deflecting another palm strike, he used the short opening to grab hold of her arm and jerked her off balance. Normally, he would have followed up to restrain her completely, but Sita’s form was that of a slight young girl, and Arjuna couldn’t help hesitating. 

It was enough for Sita to regain her footing and twist out of his hold. Jumping back, she summoned a bow — the very bow Rama had broken during her swayamvara — and notched an arrow. 

However, she didn’t shoot. Although Gandiva had also appeared in his hand with less than a thought, Arjuna didn’t move either, and the two of them only watched each other in silence, unwilling to be the first to look away — as if trying to settle their scuffle through eye contact alone. 

‘A real hero will kill you with just their eyes!’ 

Arjuna twitched as a thought passed unwanted through his mind. 

That was the signal. With a twang, Sita released her arrow. There was no crash of thunder like Gandiva, and it wasn’t melodious like some other Archers, but the sound of her bowstring reverberated down to the bone. 

Of course, Arjuna didn’t have time to contemplate this. Although they had put a little distance between before beginning their standoff, it was still something that could be crossed in the blink of an eye. He himself hadn’t notched an arrow, and rather than shoot back, he twisted aside. 

The tip of Sita’s arrow buried itself in the boulder behind him, more than halfway up the shaft, leaving the entire rockface run through by deep cracks. There was a faint sting across the top of Arjuna’s shoulder where it had grazed him. 

He didn’t stop, as a second arrow buried itself next to the first. The third, each shot without hesitation or pause, was already too close to dodge and instead he could only snap one hand up and grab the shaft just before the tip pierced his arm. The palm of his glove smoked slightly from the friction. 

Fortunately, there was no fourth shot. 

“Please accept my determination!” Sita said strongly, watching him with a tense expression. “I have the capacity to shoot at a living being, if that’s what it takes!” 

The fact that she felt that she had to prove that she could shoot someone — no, not even a person, but even just another living being — spoke clearly about how against her nature it went. Even though her arrows would have hit Arjuna if he hadn’t dodged, they wouldn’t have been lethal either. This was... 

Cracking the shaft in his hand into pieces, he let it dissolve back into golden light and regarded Sita with a grimace. 

“Surely you understand, Lord Arjuna,” she implored once more, before he could repeat his refusal. “I don’t have the power to save the world. I have never been able to do such a thing. All I can do is pursue my own wish, before it vanishes into the darkness. Isn’t it the same for you? Haven’t you also gone against yourself for the sake of a single wish? At the end of the world, what’s wrong with that?” 

There wasn’t anything wrong with that. He had chosen just that. 

But it was definitely wrong. 

This contradiction was something Arjuna couldn’t explain, so he only said coldly, “It’s not a matter of whether you have the capability to shoot another person. The question is whether you can shoot your Lord Rama. It’s not enough to just say you will be an enemy. Those that face each other on the battlefield must be ready to take their opponent’s life!” 

He didn’t need to say, ‘And you are not ready for that.’ They both knew it. 

Flinching, Sita clutched her bow defensively. 

“I... I will—!” She shook her head sharply. “If it’s the only way to see Lord Rama again, then I will do it!” 

She wasn’t going to back down. Should he try to drag her along by force? Arjuna felt a strong sense of revulsion at the prospect. He could do it, if that’s what it took... but was it really necessary? 

Was there really no other way? No, did doing this even matter? 

Medb didn’t have some greater plan for Sita, and Fionn and Diarmuid capturing her had been an unforeseen circumstance. Taking her to Alcatraz was ultimately irrelevant. Certainly, it would reflect on him poorly if he didn’t follow those orders and he would be suspected of sympathizing too much with his countrywoman, but would it be enough to make Medb try to get rid of him? She was perfectly aware of his power, and it was not insignificant. 

Wasn’t it much simpler to just resolve this without delay? 

The decision was made almost before he thought of it, and the wound up tension swept out of Arjuna’s stance. It was obvious enough that Sita could hardly miss it. She furrowed her brow, trying to guess whether the change was in her favor or not. 

“Very well,” Arjuna said. “If you wish to prove your resolve, then we shall put it to a true test. Let’s go.” 

He gestured for Sita to follow, but she only stared at him in wide-eyed confusion, clutching her bow tightly. 

“No one would believe that you can raise arms against your husband. So I will be the witness,” Arjuna explained, calm and regal — without showing any of his true thoughts. “There’s no point in just talking any further. If you are so determined, then you will say it to him directly.” 

“To... Lord Rama?” Sita repeated. Slowly, both joyful anticipation and pained dread dawned in her expression as she understood what he was saying. 

They were going to find Rama, right now, without delay. 

“Come,” Arjuna gestured. Without waiting any further, he turned and began to head out. After only a moment, Sita’s soft footsteps hurried to catch up. 

Against someone more scheming, he would have considered that perhaps he’d been played. After all, he was basically giving Sita exactly what she would want — taking her back to her husband. 

That wasn’t the case, of course, but... Medb was going to be angry. Even given that Sita was being honest in her determination, he didn’t think she would actually fight Rama. Instead, when seeing him again, she would probably just cry and run into his arms... Their curse would activate, but perhaps they would have at least a moment together. And the Celts’ prisoner would disappear without ever reaching Alcatraz. 

Well, that was fine. Even if Medb didn’t like it, it would probably still be manageable. 

It was the simplest, best outcome. 

Fortunately, they were Servants and did not need sleep — they would be traveling through the night. 

~.~ 

**Notes:** :o Welp. The stupidity(tm) has begun. 

-Arjuna: It’s fine if I do it! But you definitely can’t! You’ll feel bad! ...Not that  _ I _ do, I don’t care!

-(This is called projecting a whole lot, is what I’m getting at.) 

-In the game, E Pluribus Unum chapter has the subtitle “Steel Robe.” In JP, this was originally the slightly more descriptive “The White Cloth of Steel,” where the “white cloth” is the same phrase used in descriptions of Nightingale’s NP, regarding nurses being “angels in white.” (So a better translation might have been “Steel Angel.”) Since I needed a story title, I decided to follow the trend and use Sita’s NP, Haradhanu Janaka, the Peerless Bow of Reminiscence. 

-Next chapter, we get some more characters, and it gets... even stupider. 


	3. True Lies (Arjuna&Sita)

~.~

**Chapter 3: True Lies**

Arjuna didn’t know where Rama was, precisely, but he could make a general guess. 

Someone like the Lord Rama from the legends would naturally try to save the world. He would also never abide by the ruthless slaughter that the Celts were carrying out in their quest to claim the Singularity as their kingdom. 

If news of him could be found anywhere, it would be on the front lines, and that was where they headed. 

Although the bulk of Medb’s forces was divided under the command of her summoned Servants, there were still many bands of them roaming around and terrorizing the countryside without rein. They did not precisely share a hivemind, but they had some way of passing intel between themselves. And, as a concession to his status as a supposed ally, Medb had instructed them to obey him. 

Between the information the Celtic soldiers provided and his own skills, it wasn’t long before his and Sita’s destination became clear. 

Less than a week prior, Cu Chulainn had engaged an unknown Servant. The battle was interrupted by Rebellion forces, who assisted in the unknown Servant’s escape. Going by the somewhat vague description, it was most likely Lord Rama. 

Thinking back, Cu Chulainn had recognized Sita’s name. There was no one else he could have heard it from. 

The movements of the Rebellion forces were difficult to track, but Arjuna had been able to confirm that they were moving to regroup in a previously bustling town in the West, called Deming. The residents had long since fled due to the Celts’ advance, but precisely because the area had emptied, the Celts had not left even a token force to hold it. All they cared about was advancing and wiping out all enemies. Even calling it an occupation was not exactly right. It was something more like a locust plague, stripping the land bare and then moving onward. 

“Over there. I’ve confirmed their presence,” Arjuna said. 

Next to him, Sita jerked her head up and down in something like a nod. Although he had carefully remained outside the detection range of the four Servants in the abandoned town, none of them were Archers, so Sita could easily observe their targets as well. 

All that remained was to approach close enough to tip them off — and attack. 

“Ready?” Arjuna prompted. 

If it had been him... he would have started with a surprise attack. Bombardment from afar to destroy their cover and scatter their scarce forces. Then, a more directed strike in the confusion, taking out the native man acting as the leader or perhaps the human who might have been a Master. The chances of the remaining Servants mounting a coordinated counterattack were slim, and it would be just a matter of picking off the survivors one by one. 

An underhanded tactic well-suited to the strengths of the Archer class. The corner of Arjuna’s lips twisted sardonically. 

Sita didn’t reply immediately, her gaze distant and fixed on Deming’s weathered, rundown buildings. One building in particular, where a squad of Rebellion soldiers in United Western States uniforms stood guard. Closing her eyes, she let out a long breath. 

“There is one thing,” she said. Turning, she looked at Arjuna directly, her clear gaze both piercing and kind. She smiled. “Thank you, for helping even when it goes against your own wish and for worrying about what will become of me on this path.” 

W-who was worried?! Arjuna opened his mouth, ready to protest, but he didn’t have the chance to before Sita went on. 

“But that’s why I want to tell you this. Even though I am afraid, I believe... there is a way forward even so. That even if I do wrong here, it will not be the end. Even if I am selfish... I will be forgiven.” Her gaze drifted toward Deming again, as if drawn there by an inescapable gravity. “When he wronged me, I forgave Lord Rama. Because I love him, and I know his kindness and strength. So I want to believe that I too can be forgiven in the end.” 

“...Delusion,” Arjuna muttered, his fists clenching reflexively at his side. “Some things can’t be forgiven.” 

“I think they can,” Sita said calmly, a faint unreadable smile tugging at her lips. “People can forgive and be forgiven, no matter what mistakes they make, as long as they have the will to change and the heart to believe. How else would imperfect beings like us continue to live? That’s why...” 

She looked at him again, and Arjuna  _ knew _ what her next words would be. ‘Even you—’ A shuddering sense of almost stomach-turning refusal shot through him. It must have shown on his face, as Sita did not continue and only smiled sadly. 

There was nothing else to say, then. As she turned away, her bow appeared in her hand, and she drew an arrow back in a single smooth motion. 

The sound of her divine weapon reverberated as the arrow was released, streaking across the blue sky. 

It was not an astra, much less her Noble Phantasm, but just a basic attack. But it still hit with the force of a modern artillery shell and an explosion of magical energy that gutted one building and took out parts of several other adjacent ones. 

All of them had been empty, Arjuna noted, forcefully re-centering himself. 

It was just as he thought. Lady Sita was simply lying to herself. At the last moment, someone that kind would naturally hesitate and hold back. Once she confronted Lord Rama himself, she would no longer be able to continue and their story here would reach a tearful, bittersweet conclusion. 

That was just how it should be. 

That was how it would go... 

This thought was more uncertain than it should have been. 

The sudden attack had sent the Rebellion forces into confusion and panic as they scrambled to respond. The Servant with the shield and the native man rushed out of the building serving as their temporary safehouse, followed by the strange boy who may have been a Master. The other humans gathered around them, looking for direction, and sharp orders sent them scattering in far more organized groups. 

Sita had jumped from the bluff they had been using as an outlook and sped toward the town as soon as she fired. Unlike Arjuna, who trailed behind her while focusing on remaining undetected, her approach was soon noted — as was her intent. It was a confrontation, after all. 

The two Servants and the maybe-Master spun around to face her, taking defensive stances, as Sita alighted on the edge of a roof above them. The bright sunlight outlined her silhouette, throwing her face in shadow and making her hair glow crimson and gold. 

Both sides regarded each other in a tense standoff. 

“Are you the one who attacked us?” the human boy spoke up first, wisely remaining behind the Shielder but studying Sita with an unexpectedly calm, intelligent gaze. “Are you one of the Celtic warriors?” 

With a sharp breath, Sita tried to steady herself. “I...” 

She didn’t finish. The two remaining Servants that Arjuna had confirmed had finally emerged from the safehouse. They stumbled out awkwardly, the woman in red supporting a boy whose entire torso was swathed in bandages. His complexion was deathly pale, but his long, slightly tangled hair was the same flame-like shade as Sita’s. 

There could be no doubt of his True Name. 

Squinting against the glare of the sun, his face set in a pained grimace, he nonetheless turned to look at their supposed enemy with steely determination. Then, he froze, his eyes widening in shock. No doubt, Sita’s expression was much the same. 

“Sita...” Rama murmured her name clearly in the silence. “Sita!!” 

With a sudden burst of fervor, he struggled against the hold of the female Servant holding him up, reaching futilely toward Sita. His face was twisted in a myriad of emotions — awe, disbelief, joy but also a painful, frantic fear. 

All that remained was for Sita to fall into his arms. But... 

Watching from behind a tower a few roofs away, Arjuna felt a sudden wash of cold dread. 

Sita’s hands had stopped shaking. The ever-present uncertainty in her stance had vanished when their eyes met. It was hadn’t to make out her expression, but Arjuna thought he had seen a flash of a smile, which no longer contained any doubt, when she raised her head. 

Until then, he had always thought she would hesitate and give up at the last moment. After all, Lady Sita had never fought and never wronged another. A pure heart like hers should be unable to—

But in desperation, people chose recklessly and wrongly. Even good, righteous people would stray under the pressure of a desperate war. And this was also a war, the final one at the end of everything. Every regret and every desire was laid bare in these lingering fragments of a destroyed world. 

Arjuna had a frightening premonition. 

He might have caused something terrible. 

If the two of them truly became enemies here and now, if their love was broken because of a desperate mistake, then... 

“Lord Rama, I’m so glad to see you,” Sita said honestly and openly. 

“Sita! Sita, me too! I’m so glad—!” 

“This is all I wished for, and that’s why I’m willing to pay any price,” she went on, raising her bow and notching the arrow that had appeared in her hand. “Being to face you like this... is because I am—” 

‘Your enemy.’

This time, there was no hesitation in her aim. It would probably not be a lethal blow — probably — but still, to shoot at the person she loved, to be shot by the person he loved, would be an irreconcilable betrayal. And what if, what if she missed, if her arrow went astray...? 

It wasn’t right. He couldn’t bear the weight of that kind of mistake. 

Before Sita could finish, a larger hand closed around her wrist and yanked her off-balance. With wide eyes, she stared in surprise up at Arjuna, who had flashed over to her side. 

“—my hostage,” he finished her claim with something completely different. 

Sita’s eyebrows rose even further, but the sudden adrenaline burst had not yet died down enough to let Arjuna process just how ridiculous a thing he had done. If nothing else, at the very least she did not seem angry. Even Lord Rama and the other Servants in the street below were too stunned to react. 

What was done, was done. It couldn’t be taken back. 

Words said so boldly and so openly were no less than an arrow or a spear. 

In this case especially. Arjuna could feel something more than just words settle into place over his Spirit Origin, like a tangible weight — or rather, a magical one. It was meant to constrict and bind, but it did not fit correctly. Rather than hindering him, it only left a vague sense of disbalance. That was only natural. After all, it was not meant for him. 

So this was their curse of separation. Until he stepped in, the same weight had most likely pressed down on Sita, except multiplied countless times, forcing her to make a choice. No wonder she had tried to fight against it after all... 

The first one to recover was Rama. 

“You! Who are you?” he demanded, though the second question held perhaps more plaintive confusion than he’d intended. “What did you do to Sita?!” 

“I haven’t done anything,” Arjuna protested, frowning. 

Ah. That was... the wrong answer. He could feel it. Sita grimaced and, this close, he could sense her Spirit Origin wavering slightly. 

“So far,” he corrected, forcing his tone into something as regal and impersonal as he could. Perhaps sinister would be better, but he didn’t have much experience in doing that on purpose. It was the opposite of the front he had always tried to present to others. “But that will depend on you, Lord Rama.” 

Faced with a clear enemy, Rama’s turbulent emotions and confusions were all brought into line with a singular focus. His expression smoothed into fiery determination, and even his pained stance straightened. As expected of Lord Rama — he was the type whose nature only shone more clearly under trial. A person with a clear heart and strong ideals. In other words, the type Arjuna was particularly bad with. 

“What is your goal? Why have you taken Sita hostage?” Rama asked, regal and commanding despite the roundness of his youthful features. 

...What was his goal? 

“...”

Well, there... wasn’t one. Not one he could explain, in any case. 

He glanced at Sita. She had schooled her expression into unreadable neutrality, but it seemed to Arjuna that she was conveying quite clearly, ‘I also do not know what you are doing.’ 

A goal, a goal... 

He could have simply said that he was acting as part of the Celtic army, and that his goal was the same as theirs — to claim this Singularity as their kingdom. It would have been a logically sound and convenient excuse, from which he could have easily extricated himself later. It was not even entirely untrue, from the perspective of his original mission. 

Even if it had nothing to do with why he had acted... 

No, more than that, he had acted of his own will by his own choice. To push it onto someone else was something that drew an instinctive sense of revulsion from him. 

So what he said was this. 

“I am Arjuna, and my goal is to defeat you!” he declared. “Lord Rama, I will defeat you and Karna, and prove that I am the most worthy hero! I am your true enemy in this era! Come find me, when you are ready to fight with everything you have!” 

And, throwing Sita over his shoulder, made a hasty but suitably dramatic exit. 

Fortunately, no one could see the way his ears burned in embarrassment. It would have completely broken the image of a consummate villain he had tried to project. 

~.~ 

**Notes:** Chapter summary: Arjuna trips over Feelings and then starts digging to prove that being face down in the dirt was his plan all along. 

~.~


	4. Highlander (Arjuna&Sita)

~.~

**Chapter 4: Highlander**

The walls of the fortress at Denver were high, and the winds atop the battlements was the sort that chilled humans to the bone. Even as a Servant, Helena Blavatsky felt an instinctive sense of discomfort — enough to make her consider materializing a coat. Sighing to herself, she instead focused on making sure her beret remained where it was supposed to be. 

“So? What did you want to talk about?” she asked, turning to the only other person present, the one who had called her out into the gusty winds. 

Karna blinked slowly, seemingly unconcerned by his messy hair being pressed into his eyes. “You must be aware of why,” he pointed out. 

“Probably,” Helena admitted. “But I want to hear it from you.” 

Karna nodded. “You let Geronimo rescue the people from Chaldea,” he said. “Why?” 

Brutally honest — but then she’d asked for it. Nonetheless, Helena frowned. This particular section of the battlements was a place Karna had often gravitated toward, so out of consideration for him, Edison had left it unobserved and unmonitored. Together with the wind, it was the safest location for a private conversation. 

But even so, the claim he was stating so baldly was not a light one. 

“I don’t think you put in exactly all your effort into stopping them either,” Helena pointed out. 

Calmly, Karna nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But I want to hear your reasons.” 

Shooting back her words like that… he wasn’t as detached and airheaded as he seemed at times. “Well, that’s fine,” Helena sighed. Giving up on appearances, she materialized her coat and pulled the collar up. It seemed they would be talking for a while. 

“I did let Geronimo sneak in and rescue Nightingale and those two from Chaldea,” she admitted. “You know the reason too. It’s because we’re going to lose.” 

Just saying it sent a shiver that had nothing to do with the wind down her spine. 

At the moment, the war was at a stalemate. The mechanized infantry could more or less hold the line against the monsters and the Celtic foot soldiers, and the human casualties had finally dropped to something less than “horrifying”... But that only left the death toll somewhere at “unsustainable” by a particularly heartless estimate. And they were still all but completely helpless against the enemy Servants. Edison needed to devote all his time to development and leadership, Helena was not particularly skilled at combat to begin with, and Karna could only head to the frontline rarely, given the necessary task of guarding Denver itself. 

For those closest to the throne, the signs were clear. They were in a losing race against time before the human population reached their limit. 

...It was clear to everyone except Edison. 

“We can’t keep this up. Something has to change. But we’ve already played all our cards and then some,” she concluded, “so that change can only come from an outside element. And that would be our friends from Chaldea. Even if they didn’t agree to ally with us, they’ll prioritize the Celts. And who knows, maybe we’ll be able to work something out in the end!” 

She ended on a cheerful, lilting note, but her thoughts were a little different. 

‘And if we lose to them... it’s not so bad if the Foundation of Humanity is restored.’ 

That was an outcome she could accept. 

“Even so, you are betraying Edison’s trust,” Karna said. He didn’t sound disapproving, but his toneless delivery still made Helena instinctively want to go on the defensive. 

That wasn’t what he intended though — his actual rebuking tone was quite a bit more weighty — and she forced down the reflex to cross her arms and shoot back something snappy about him being in the same position. 

Maybe that was the entire issue, that he was in the same boat and he wanted to talk about it. 

Thinking about it like that, it was a little cute. Boys were quite bad with feelings, weren’t they? 

“I suppose so. But better to betray his trust now than let him drive humanity to extinction. Do you think he could live with causing that?” Helena sighed again. “If it was the usual Edison, I’d just tell him he’s wrong to his face. He’d whine and throw a tantrum, but I’d make him listen in the end. However, the way he is now...” 

She wasn’t entirely sure whether Karna could tell that something was off — aside from the bodybuilder physique and the lion head. There was something subtler and deeper as well. As Edison’s friend, Helena had noticed it from the start. It was just that she couldn’t leave him alone, no matter what state he was. No, especially in that state.

She couldn’t abandon him, but she couldn’t just support him either. What a mess. 

“But you are betraying him all the same,” Karna repeated. The faint impression of a frown passed across his blank face. “Is that... your form of loyalty?” 

‘So he really is worried about that,’ Helena thought. 

“Yes,” she said bluntly. “That’s my loyalty and my friendship. Just silently supporting someone on the path to self-destruction is no kindness. That’s why I won’t let him make a choice he’ll regret.” 

“I see,” Karna murmured. “But I don’t know if I agree.” 

Surprisingly, he was the first to look away. Well, Helena could more or less guess what he was thinking about, if not what he was feeling. The great hero Karna had served a friend loyally, after all, all the way until the end of his life. A friend who had been on the losing side, and who had mourned inconsolably after his death. 

She didn’t think he had been wrong, really, and it wasn’t her place to judge his life, but Helena felt like she might have been too blunt after all. 

“It’s fine if you don’t. Everyone has their own way of living, right?” she said, pulling her coat tighter around herself and burying her cold nose into the upturned collar. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t interfere though.” ...Since she couldn’t hope to take him in a fight. 

“I will not,” Karna said. “This time... I want to see where your kind of loyalty leads.” 

“Mm, well, that’s what being a Heroic Spirit is all about, isn’t it? Living ever after and trying new things!” Helena laughed. “It’d be pretty boring to just be the same as you always were, don’t you think?” 

The serious, contemplative look he gave her blithe statement just made her laugh harder. 

~.~

Sita waited until they were well away from Deming before speaking up. 

“Lord Arjuna, please put me down,” she said evenly. There was no readable emotion in her voice. 

Being carried over his shoulder like a sack was doubtlessly neither comfortable nor dignified, and Arjuna obliged quickly. Landing in the shadow of a weathered rock formation, he gently set her back on her feet. Sita did not look him in the face. Taking two steps back, she settled down on the dusty ground and closed her eyes in thought. 

In her agitation, she couldn’t quite hide the furrow between her brows, and Arjuna wondered precisely which emotion she was feeling that deeply. Frustration? Anger? Absolute and utter disgust? 

There was nothing for him to do except take a seat opposite her — and wait. 

The silence stretched on for a long time, long enough for the dark shadows of the midday sun to begin moving, if only a little. Finally, Sita let out a long sigh. As if it had contained all of her agitation and uncertainty, when she straightened and looked at Arjuna, her expression was once more calm and self-controlled. 

“You interfered in something unrelated to you,” Sita said. Her tone didn’t carry any edge of rebuke, but Arjuna still grimaced internally. “I had made my decision, and it was not for you to take that from me. However…” She smiled. “I understand that it was due to your concern and care. I won’t disparage your kindness. Thank you, Lord Arjuna.” 

This was what she had carefully thought over and decided upon, examining her feelings and directing them in the way she felt best. Her gratitude had no trace of sarcasm or unwillingness, and her smile was warm if perhaps a little exasperated. 

“That's not what I…” 

Under Sita’s patient, open look, Arjuna could not quite finish his protests and fell silent. 

He couldn’t quite put it into words, but faced down like this, with neither challenge nor aggression, was both familiar and unsettling. 

“But even so, I wonder what you will do now,” Sita went on. “Lord Rama will target you specifically.” 

“That’s fine,” Arjuna said, feeling more at ease with this topic. “Since I have said I will defeat him, I will not lose.” 

“...I don’t think Lord Rama will lose either,” Sita said somewhat mulishly. 

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Arjuna knew that the best choice would have been to just lose and let Rama take back his bride, but the idea of losing on purpose was extremely distasteful. He couldn’t even say it, must less do it. However... it was only natural for Sita to believe her husband would win, so there was no purpose in trying to argue with her. 

Convincing himself of this, Arjuna forcefully dismissed the subject. “It’s fine,” he repeated. “Let Lord Rama come. I, Arjuna, will face him with all my strength and skill.” 

Sita’s lips twitched. She cleared her throat. “That isn’t quite what I meant. What I meant to ask is... do you still plan to take me to that prison? Is this something that queen will accept?” 

...This was a very good question, to which Arjuna did not have an answer. 

Although he had “allied” with them, he did not understand Medb, and he understood Cu Chulainn even less. What was the purpose of conquering a kingdom which would then be empty except for Medb’s drone-like familiars and monsters? It was a charade beyond anything he could imagine. And because he did not understand their motivations, he didn’t understand where their limits were. Why had they allowed him to join them in the first place? When would they decide that he was more liability than asset? 

Arjuna had full confidence in both his skill and the fame his name carried. But he simply did not know what framework he would be judged by. 

‘Well, that’s fine. Just make sure you give us a good show!’ Medb had instructed mockingly when he first stood before her and Cu Chulainn. 

Would this nonsense play-acting he found himself involved in be amusing to her, or too ridiculous to tolerate? 

...Was he willing to grovel to put her in a good mood? 

As he thought, his eyes had drifted down to his clasped hands. It took an effort not to glance up at Sita, who waited patiently for his decision. From the start, she had treated him cordially and respectfully, if not always warmly, as a great hero of the same homeland. And even though Arjuna had decided to throw away that facade, he had not let go of his pride. The image of deferentially enduring Medb’s mocking and purposefully denigrating himself to amuse her until she was willing to overlook his actions was even more sharply distasteful in contrast. 

To go and grovel after so boldly declaring himself the strongest hero of India in front of Lord Rama himself... 

Arjuna couldn’t quite hide the disgusted curl of his mouth. 

Put like that, the answer became quite clear. From the start, their cooperation had been temporary and fragile. There had always been a chance that they would fall out and part ways — on unfriendly terms. So be it. 

“It doesn’t matter whether she will accept. I’m not going back to Washington,” Arjuna said, straightening from the thinking posture he had adopted. “And I will not take you to Alcatraz either. I challenged Lord Rama. Changing the stakes of that would be an insult to both of us.” 

Covering her mouth, Sita laughed quietly. “That’s right, you warriors are like that,” she mused. “I suppose it can’t be helped...” 

Arjuna smiled faintly as well, before his expression grew cold. “However, there is something that comes first,” he said. “There is no reason for me to hold back now. I  _ will _ face Karna. I’m afraid, Lady Sita, you will have to accompany me in this.” 

It had a pleasant directness and order to it, now that he turned over this matter in his mind. 

He would defeat Karna and free himself from his own curse. Then, he could stand proudly in front of even Lord Rama, as the hero he was always meant to be — a far simpler, nobler battle without regrets. 

Well, he still wouldn’t lose, but... 

“I will be honored to... No, I will be glad to,” Sita said, smiling. 

She accepted the hand he offered her as he stood and let herself be pulled to her feet as well. 

In the next moment, Arjuna moved without warning, all but tackling her with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. He had reacted just in time, as the dusty ground where they had been standing erupted in a burst of dirt and rock. 

Dropping Sita back onto her feet with less care than he would have liked, Arjuna turned to look up at the perpetrator with a deep frown. With a tug at the chain connecting them, the man at the top of the rock formation they had been idling beneath pulled his massive sword back from the crater its impact had caused. He grinned down at Arjuna sardonically, making a small two fingered salute. 

“Beowulf,” Arjuna said tonelessly. 

“Yo,” the Berserker replied without the slightest sense of unease. 

‘Was I too careless?’ Arjuna wondered. It was one thing against an Assassin or perhaps a skilled Archer, but how could he have missed a Berserker approaching them? 

Beowulf chuckled. “Don’t make that face, pretty boy. I just happen to know a thing or two about sneaking up on prey. When you’re fighting all kinds of beasts, nothing wrong with a sneak attack or two,” he said, as if reading Arjuna’s thoughts. He shrugged, his expression scrunching up. “Nothing with putting a good duel or two over this conquering business either, but you know... Seems Her Majesty doesn’t quite see it that way. You get what I mean?” 

“Medb sent you to meet me partway,” Arjuna guessed, his own expression darkening. “Or else, to kill me if I deviated from her orders at all. She suspected me from the start.” 

“Exactly right,” Beowulf agreed. He grinned wolfishly. “Come on, you can’t be surprised. You’re one of those brainy types too, aren’t you? I bet you were counting up how far you could push it in your head all along. And if you said all that just now, you already decided you don’t care about the risk.” 

That was true. He had indeed decided that. Conceding, Arjuna only dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

Beowulf’s smile widened. “All the better! I’ve been bored out of my skull just guarding that moldy old place. Just think of this as a warm up to your big duel of destiny. Of course… You might just become a warm up for me instead.” 

“Hoh?” Arjuna drew out, his expression cold. 

Unnoticed, Sita had dusted herself off and moved aside to watch the back and forth. A couple times, she opened her mouth as if to protest, but couldn’t seem to find the words. 

She had thought to herself that she didn’t want to just stand aside and let others determine her fate. That was why she had taken up her bow. Perhaps Arjuna was right, and to point it at Lord Rama was a step too far, but that determination was not something she would just take back. 

It was just that she couldn’t find a place to interject, between these two determined to do battle. 

As Gandiva rang out and another explosion of dust and rock shards filled the air, she paid it little mind, her expression troubled. 

She wanted to choose a different path this time.

But how? 

~.~


	5. The Good, the Bad and the Monkey (Chaldea)

~.~

Chapter 5: The Good, the Bad and the Monkey

Without warning, Medb began to laugh. 

She had been silent and distracted for a while, her eyes glassy in a way that indicated she was doing something with her connection to the Grail, to the Servants she had summoned, or to the myriad warriors she had spawned. It was far from uncommon, even if she preferred a more… hands off approach to their war of conquest. Most likely, she had been checking on some particular front or operation. Cu Chulainn had only noted it in case it led to her finally letting him head out again. Battle did not bring him joy, but it was still marginally better than sitting around like a favorite decoration in Washington. 

Whatever Medb found must have been amusing, though given her personality, the range of “amusing” things was unnaturally broad. She laughed for a long time, while Cu Chulainn watched with silent disinterest. 

“Can you guess what happened, Cu?” she finally asked, still chuckling a little and trying to catch her breath. “It’s really something!” 

“No,” Cu Chulainn said plainly. He ignored her pout and coquettish gaze from beneath her eyelashes and simply waited for her to finally tell him. 

Huffing, Medb gave in. “Ah, you’re so cold, Cu… It’s about Arjuna. I sent Beowulf to meet up with him, and now Beowulf is gone.” She spread her hands without the slightest concern for losing a powerful Servant. “Can you believe that frigid pretty boy actually went crazy over a woman? A married woman? Isn’t that just too ridiculous?” 

It was indeed quite ridiculous, enough that Cu Chulainn felt something like a shadow of mirth at the thought. Most likely, the situation was not that straightforward, but it was still like a good joke, thinking about that twisted up inside stick-in-the-mud going wild over some legendary married woman from his homeland. 

Unfortunately, the echo of amusement faded before it could mean anything to him, and Cu Chulainn only grunted indifferently. 

“So what?” he said. “I told you we don’t need him. It just means he’ll die a little sooner.” 

Medb giggled. “That’s true! You’re all I need, Cu. I love you~!” 

The flat, emotionless look on his face did nothing to deter her. Smiling coyly, she leaned against his broad chest — deftly avoiding the spikes of the Curruid all over his body — and traced a meaningless pattern over his heart with one finger. 

“It’s too bad, poking at him was fun,” she mused. “But now that he’s gone and betrayed us, we can’t let him off without a proper punishment. What do you think, Cu? What should we do?” 

“Next time I see him, I’ll kill him,” Cu Chulainn said. 

Well, he would have done that regardless. 

“No, Cu, that’s too easy!” Medb protested, swatting at him playfully. “No, no, it needs to be something more! Something to make him really suffer...” Humming thoughtfully, she swung her legs back and forth. “Aaah, it would be best to tear apart that shining hero facade of his, but I don’t want to delay our kingdom just to set that up... Oh, but there is that thing. He’s quite obsessed with that brother of his, isn’t he?” 

Cu Chulainn didn’t reply. It was not necessary. 

“Let’s kill him first!” Medb decided brightly. 

“Karna rarely leaves Denver. Facing him before the very end is unlikely,” Cu Chulainn noted dispassionately. 

Fluttering her hand, she waved away his — completely logical — correction. “He’ll appear! And when he does, make sure you kill him. No, cripple him — that’ll be even more fun! Don’t you think so, Cu?” 

Fun? Fighting a hero as famously powerful as Karna, the son of the sun god Surya, it was enough to... No. The feeling that should have been there was absent still. Whether full-out battle or sadistic torture or mindgames, Cu Chulainn had only one impression of it all. 

“I don’t care,” he said, closing his eyes. 

“Hehe...” Medb chuckled under her breath. “I love that side of you too, Cu. I love you so much...” 

He didn’t care about that either. 

~.~ 

Even though they didn’t particularly expect Arjuna to turn around and return, they could no longer remain at Deming. The explosion, though fortunately causing only fairly minor wounds, would have drawn the attention of any nearby monsters, Celtic warriors or, worst of all, Servants. With efficiency born of hard necessity, the Rebellion forces had quickly packed what essential supplies they could carry and, splitting into small cells, departed in every direction. 

The hardest to ‘pack’ was Rama himself. The emotional upheaval had inevitably caused his condition to worsen, and he had passed out almost as soon as Arjuna — or rather, Sita — was out of sight. Nightingale had worked frantically just to stabilize him, but it was clear from her stormy expression that she wished there was some recourse to moving him in this state. 

“We’ll head east. No matter what we decide, we’ll need to rendezvous with the others,” Geronimo had said before taking the lead. 

With four Servants in their group, it was inevitable that they would attract the most attention, and by the time they stopped for the night, they had been attacked several times, by monsters and roving bands of Celtic soldiers. 

“How are you holding up?” Ritsuka asked Mash quietly as they worked to help set up a makeshift camp. 

“I’m fine, Senpai,” Mash said, shooting him a smile. Raising one arm, she clapped a hand to her bicep. “My endurance is something I can be proud of!” 

“That’s good,” Ritsuka smiled back, though it faded quickly when he couldn’t help glancing toward Nightingale and Rama’s prone form. Understanding his worry, Mash laid a supportive hand on his arm. 

Since they were in hiding, a fire was out of the question, and he was soon left shivering as the heat of the day was replaced by a deep chill. When Geronimo held out a travel blanket, Ritsuka accepted it gratefully. He was ready to huddle under it, but something occurred to him. 

“Mash,” he called out quietly, “what do you think about sharing body heat?” 

“...!” Her head turned toward him, her mouth dropping open as her cheeks darkened, but no words came out. That was alright because someone else was more than willing to pick up the slack. The communicator on Ritsuka’s wrist beeped, and a familiar voice poured out. 

“Whaaaa—-! Fujimaru, that’s too fast! Don’t you know our Mash is a pure girl?” Dr. Roman complained. “I absolutely won’t allow any hijinks on a mission, young man! You better— Ow!” 

There was a confused, staticy series of noises from the other end. 

“Ahem,” Da Vinci’s voice came next, making it clear she had forcefully taken charge of the console. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. Mash, you’re still a living human, so your tolerances aren’t as high as pure Servants. And it’ll help Ritsuka stay warm too.” 

“W-well...” Mash’s eyes darted around for a moment before her brow furrowed and her face filled with determination. “If it’s to help Senpai, then I’ll do it!” 

Smiling, Ritsuka held open the blanket. Mash approached slowly but finally settled onto the ground next to him, dispelling her armor. Scooting until they were pressed side to side — ignoring her quiet sound of surprise — Ritsuka closed the folds of the blanket around both of them. It would be a step too far to wrap his arm around her, so he only linked their elbows together, so their shoulders bumped. 

“Okay?” he asked. 

Mash swallowed. “Y-yeah.” 

Slowly, the stiffness began to fade, and she relaxed against him. It was indeed much warmer this way. The night would be long and cold, and it was better to have someone beside you. 

Ritsuka was already on the verge of nodding off, exhausted, when a low groan followed by Nightingale’s strident admonishments roused him. Blinking, he glanced over. It seemed that Rama had finally regained consciousness — and promptly tried his luck against the nurse of steel. That was, of course, a very foolish move. 

“Nightingale,” Geronimo interrupted what was increasingly looking like a sleeper chokehold. Nightingale paused and shot him the kind of look you could expect from a cobra. It was a testament to Geronimo’s mettle that he didn’t change expression even slightly. “If he’s awake, we should take the opportunity to decide on our next move.” 

“The patient’s condition is not yet stabilized. Even now, his heart continues to rot away no matter how much I heal him,” Nightingale rebuked. “Further excitement will only worsen his state.” 

“But I don’t think he’ll be able to rest like this,” Ritsuka spoke up, sitting up. He had ended up leaning heavily on Mash at some point, but fortunately she didn’t seem to mind, although here was a bright blush peeking out from under her long messy bangs. 

“That’s right! I can’t rest like this,” Rama agreed quickly. However, his attempt to wiggle out of Nightingale’s hold was futile, and he could only settle down once more, grumbling. “Just let me listen, I won’t get worked up.” 

“If he does, you can knock him out,” Ritsuka offered. 

“Yeah— Wait!” 

“Alright,” Geronimo quickly took the opening. “Then let’s discuss how to proceed from here. We had intended to find Sita and heal Rama with her help. But given the situation with Arjuna, that may not be possible. If his aim is to face Rama alone, he likely won’t be willing to fight the rest of us and he won’t release Sita until he is defeated...” 

Rama clicked his tongue irritably. “I told him not to be so arrogant, and he pulls this instead...” he complained. “That brat!” 

Considering his appearance, this comment was already at least a little incongruous. But given the situation on top of that... Mash and Ritsuka exchanged a look. 

“Um, excuse me, Lord Rama...” Mash said tentatively. 

“It’s, ow, fine,” Rama winced as he waved his hand a little too enthusiastically. He subtly leaned away from Nightingale’s hawk-like gaze. “Just call me Rama.” 

“Yes, um, Rama. I just wanted to ask...” She paused, glancing again at Ritsuka. “You don’t seem as worried as we’d expect?” 

Rama blinked, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh, I guess that’s true,” he admitted easily. “I feel a lot better knowing that Sita’s with Arjuna, of all people. I mean, he’s got his head filled with some nonsense, but better him than the Celts or having to run from monsters alone. I know he won’t do anything.” 

“You are familiar with him?” Geronimo asked, frowning. “More than just as heroes of the same land?” 

The communicator on Ritsuka’s wrist beeped. “That shouldn’t be the case,” Dr. Roman objected. “The Ramayana and the Mahabharata don’t have a connection. They are separate works from different eras.” 

“Did you meet in another Holy Grail War?” Mash guessed. 

Waving his hand again — with Nightingale watching it like a cat about to pounce — Rama said, “No way! We met in the Mahabharata. Well, it was just a small story, so I’m not surprised if it got left out.” 

“Eh? Hang on, let me check...” Romani muttered from the other end. 

“No need, I’ll tell you myself!” Rama declared. However, he hesitated, reaching up and ruffling his hair... and wincing as the motion pulled at his bandaged chest. “It was after my death, so it was... kind of me, but not exactly me. Or, I guess, not just me. It’s hard to explain, but I do remember it. It’s the story of how Hanuman ended up on the banner of Arjuna's chariot.”

“Hanuman... banner...” The sound of typing accompanied Dr. Roman’s muffled voice. He was probably trying to run a keyword search to see if what Rama was saying appeared anywhere in Chaldea’s database. 

Even if it was recorded somewhere, there was a big difference hearing it from a person who had lived it. Ritsuka couldn’t help leaving in with anticipation, and next to him, Mash was much the same. It seemed that most heroes weren’t interested in relating their own heroics -- even someone as bombastic as Drake had only laughed and waved them off no matter how much they cojolled her for the tale of her battle with Poseidon. 

No, more than that, most of their stories were not something happy — Jeanne, Marie, Boudica, Mordred... none of them would enjoy recounting their old struggles that still weighed upon them even after their passing. Even Rama, for his own history, had just told them, ‘Read the Ramayana!’ 

But he appeared quite at ease relating this mysterious encounter. 

“That guy, Arjuna,” he began, “at one point, he went on a pilgrimage. He visited all kinds of places and got swept up in all kinds of things, but eventually he ended up in Rameshwaram. That’s where my allies and I had built a bridge across the sea to reach Ravana. But that was ages back by that point, so there wasn’t much left...” 

The periodic clicking from Ritsuka’s communicator suddenly stopped. “Ah!” Dr. Roman exclaimed. “I found it—!” 

“He didn’t think it was very impressive. He was still pretty young back then!” Rama went on as if he hadn’t heard anything. However, he raised his voice rather pointedly. “It seemed like too much hassle, right? He thought that, since I’m such a great archer, why didn’t I just make a bridge with my bow and arrows?” Rama paused to make a face. “Obviously I can make a bridge with just my bow, But that’s for when you’re pressed for time or you don’t have supplies. Taking an army across the sea? What if we got attacked by flying enemies or sea monsters on the way?” 

He shook his head, disappointed in the young Arjuna’s brashness. 

‘Obviously,’ Ritsuka mouthed to himself, Rama could have made a bridge across an entire sea with just his bow. Heroes were really on a different level. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mash pressing her lips together tightly to hide a smile as she thought along the same lines. 

“Since he was acting so fussy, a monkey that had been traveling with pilgrims challenged him to actually do it,” Rama went on. Ritsuka had to close his eyes for a moment. A monkey that had been following the pilgrims, right, right. “It bet that any bridge he made couldn’t hold the weight of even a small monkey like it, much less the great monkey heroes like Sugreeva, Angada and Hanuman who had followed me back then. Arjuna agreed and said, if he failed, he’d jump into a fire and pay with his life.” 

Ritsuka choked. Mash quivered as she forcefully held back a sound of disbelief. Even Geronimo, who had been trying to seriously pay attention for any intelligence that could be gleaned about their new opponent, had to shake his head in disapproval. 

Why were ancient heroes like that? Couldn’t he have bet a banana or something? 

“Right, and that monkey was—” Roman exclaimed excitedly. 

“Ahem!” 

“—sorry,” he quickly fell silent when Rama cleared his throat. 

Harrumphing, Rama turned up his nose. “I’ll cut out the boring parts,” he said, “but basically, Arjuna couldn’t do it. Every time he made a bridge, it would collapse almost as soon as the monkey tried to walk across it. He couldn’t handle the shame and started building a fire like he’d promised. But, well, that would be… a big problem, since he’s an important existence in human history. That’s why I stepped in. Or rather, I guess you could say that Vishnu stepped in, using my identity.” 

His face scrunched up, his brow furrowed as if he didn’t quite understand what had happened either. Or maybe he just couldn’t put it into words. 

While they had been traveling, Mash had explained to him Rama’s story — how he was an incarnation of the great god Vishnu, who was reborn as a human in order to defeat the demon king Ravana. Although he had been recorded in the Throne of Heroes as a Heroic Spirit, his soul was still part of a Divine Spirit as well. 

There probably weren’t any human words to describe his state after the end of his mortal life. 

“When I had him try one more time, I supported his bridge with Vishnu’s power,” Rama said, his voice growing slower and more distant as he recalled. “It wouldn’t break even when the monkey took his real form — that of my old friend, Hanuman.” Suddenly, he laughed, dispelling the lingering atmosphere. “Of course, they were way more shocked when I revealed who I was!” 

Ritsuka chuckled too, imagining it. But the figures in this mind making Van Gogh’s The Scream faces in shock were more like blobs than individuals. He didn’t know what Hanuman even looked like, of course, but he could imagine the menacing and cold Arjuna like that even less. 

Nodding along, Rama smirked. “That’s right, I told them both off properly!” ...Ritsuka wondered if Rama back then was also a good head shorter than Arjuna… “And that was why Hanuman vowed to protect Arjuna’s battle in the coming war, from his banner. It was an apology. He carried out his part until the end — unlike some people who apparently didn’t learn anything! This brat!” 

Repeating his earlier complaints, Rama pounded his knee in agitation. 

‘This brat’ being Arjuna, who had looked down on them regally like the very image of an impeccable warrior. 

‘Oh no,’ Ritsuka thought. He ducked his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. ‘Oh no, how am I going to keep a straight face the next time we see him?’ 

“I see. So it was that kind of situation,” Geronimo said calmly. Either he had an amazing poker face, or he was used to stories like this. But he was a modern Heroic Spirit, wasn’t he? Surely his life hadn’t been filled with these kinds of incidents... “In that case, he will probably not help us heal you, but he also won’t target anyone except you.” 

It took a moment for Rama to answer — locked in a stare down with Nightingale, who had taken exception to his accelerated heart rate. 

“Seems so,” Rama said slowly, not taking his eyes off Nightingale and moving as if faced with a predator. “It’s just me and Karna he’ll be after. That’s why I don’t think he’ll do anything to Sita. But also...” His face took on a slightly strange expression. “I saw the look on her face. She used to give me and Lakshmana that look sometimes. Like she really wanted to give us a few good whacks...” 

Mash glanced at Ritsuka, confused. “It’s like the look Da Vinci gives Dr. Roman when he talks about Magi Mari too much,” Ritsuka explained in an undertone. 

“Oh!” Mash’s face lit up with understanding. 

It wasn’t the kind of face you give a dangerous kidnapper. It was just annoyance when someone you knew was acting dumb but you had to be the adult and tolerate it. In other words, Sita herself hadn’t been worried, so there was probably no need for them to worry either. 

The issue of Arjuna was something they could set aside for now. 

“If luck is on our side, perhaps he’ll face Karna first. Whoever wins, it will be convenient for us,” Geronimo mused, but he did not sound hopeful. “However, that leaves us back where we started in regard to healing Rama.” 

There was a brief, unencouraging silence. 

“The biggest problem is that curse from the spear, right?” Ritsuka prompted, mostly to fill the air with something. 

“Correct,” Nightingale responded immediately. “Without that, recovery would be slow but possible.” 

“We wanted to strengthen Rama’s existence to counter it, but the other option Doctor Roman mentioned was breaking the spear itself,” he went on. “Is that still a possibility?”

His communicator glowed faintly. “It’s possible, but there’s a reason we didn’t pursue that option before,” Dr. Roman reminded him. 

Ritsuka nodded. “I know. But when Rama fought Cu Chulainn, there weren’t any other Servants with him, right? So he must come to the frontlines alone. If we don’t try to defeat him, and just hit and run...” 

The silence that followed was much heavier. 

He knew what he was suggesting, and Ritsuka didn’t like it either. His and Mash’s lives would be on the line as well, since they would naturally participate. But they also couldn’t sit around doing nothing. Rama’s condition would only worsen, and so would the state of the Singularity. This was their mission, and they couldn’t afford to not act. However, asking the Rogue Servants to do the same... 

“Understood,” Nightingale declared, simply and shortly. “If that is the treatment necessary, then I will carry it out.” 

There was no if or but to her. For a patient in front of her, she would have fought a Demon Pillar with her bare hands. Under her determination, the tension broke. 

“I don’t like it,” Geronimo admitted, “but I don’t have any better ideas either. Then, it’s decided. We will regroup with my allies in Lubbock and begin the operation against Cu Chulainn.” 

“I’ll pay you back,” Rama promised, his eyes filled with both regret and fierce drive. “I’ll pay you back on the battlefield tenfold after I recover!” 

“We’ll be counting on it,” Geronimo agreed. 

As Nightingale herded Rama back to his bedroll and Geronimo took watch, Ritsuka reluctantly began to rise as well. He couldn’t sleep just leaning on Mash if there were other options, he knew from experience. He’d be sore in the morning, and that was no pleasant thing with another day of travel to look forward to. The night air was cold outside their cocoon. 

Crawling out, he turned back and closed the blanket around Mash alone. “Senpai?” she questioned, flushing slightly as he brought together the overlapping edges like a cloak. 

“Try to get some sleep too,” he told her, offering a smile. “Even if you’re a Demi-Servant. We have a tough battle ahead.” 

Mash looked at him for a moment. Then, slipping one hand free of the folds of the blanket, she placed it over his. “It’ll be alright, Senpai,” she said. “We will win.” 

There was no basis for her certainty. The odds had always been against them. But it warmed Ritsuka to the core. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We will win.” 

~.~

Notes: This is the first of a few chapters focusing on the Chaldea-Rebellion team. They’re, hm, necessary in my opinion but not really interesting. I’ll try to post them quicker to get us over that bump. 

Then we’ll switch back to Arjuna and Sita, who will pick up some more friends as well. Since they’re both pretty introverted, it’s tough to keep their scenes moving with just them. Clearly, they need more hijinks. And I will provide! ...Later! 

~.~


	6. Mission Impossible 1 (Chaldea)

~.~

**Chapter 6: Mission Impossible 1**

Geronimo’s allies were both Archers, though they were very vastly men aside from their Class. The only thing Billy the Kid and Robin Hood had in common was a lack of respect for authority, which was likely what led the two outlaws to side with the Rebellion in the first place. 

Neither of them stood much chance against Cu Chulainn in direct combat either, but they accepted the plan to attack him with grim determination and black humor. 

“It’s unfortunate that we have no way of baiting him out and drawing him to a prepared battleground,” Geronimo said. “We’ll still aim for an ambush, but there will be a limit to how many traps we’ll be able to set, and we won’t be able to choose the terrain.” 

“Too bad. I’d like our chances better in a forest,” Robin Hood agreed. The cigarette he’d accepted from Geronimo was clenched between his teeth, and his grimace hadn’t eased the entire time. 

“Not me, I don’t know nothing about forests,” Billy said, absently spinning his revolver in his hand. “I’m more a plains kinda guy.” 

“It’ll have to be wherever Cu Chulainn attacks next,” Geronimo said firmly. “I’ve given the men orders to report to me as soon as we spot him on the move. But before that happens, we need to decide on a strategy. Gae Bolg is a Noble Phantasm and a legendary weapon. It will not break easily.” 

Propping his chin on one hand, Billy joked, “Should we arm wrestle to see who’s the strongest? Just to warn you, it ain’t me. I’m quick, not strong.” 

“In terms of arm strength, I’m quite sure Nightingale will be the victor,” Geronimo said dryly. 

Everyone present turned to look at the nurse, who broke off watching Rama to look back at them. They looked away quickly. No one was willing to dispute Geronimo’s claim. 

“All the same, direct combat would be suicide,” he went on, “and none of us have anything that could hope to match it, aside from Rama. The best option would be to separate Cu Chulainn from his weapon. I doubt he’ll give us an opening to break it otherwise.” 

The faintly flickering blue hologram being projected from Ritsuka’s communicator nodded. “I pulled up what information we have on Cu Chulainn and Gae Bolg, and there was one thing I found...” Dr. Roman paused, grimacing. “You see, Gae Bolg is actually a throwing weapon.” 

“Oh, great,” Robin muttered. His brows furrowing deeply, he took a long drag of his cigarette. 

The atmosphere made it clear this was not exactly good news, but Ritsuka didn’t quite understand. He glanced at Mash, who looked back with a troubled expression. 

“Yes, it’s as you’re thinking,” Dr. Roman admitted. “Gae Bolg can be thrown, which is probably the only way to get Cu Chulainn to relinquish it long enough for us to break it... But that in itself is a powerful Noble Phantasm — the Soaring Spear that Strikes with Death. It’s like an anti-army magic missile that still carries powerful curse-like properties.” 

“In other words, if we want to bait him into using it, whoever is acting as the target will need to have a way of surviving being in the vicinity when it hits,” Geronimo said. 

He still sounded extremely calm, but Ritsuka’s eyes slowly widened as the full implications sank in. 

“So you’re saying someone will bait Cu Chulainn into attacking them from a distance? They’ll break the spear after it hits... but first they need to survive a magic bomb at close range?” he asked. 

“Sounds like it,” Billy agreed. His smile was incongruently cheery. 

While Ritsuka continued to look increasingly troubled, Mash’s expression firmed with determination. “I understand,” she said suddenly. “It’s withstanding an attack, please leave it to me. I might not know it’s name, but I believe in the strength of this shield, even against a legendary weapon like Gae Bolg.” 

“Mash...” 

“Senpai, I can do this,” Mash said firmly. 

Robin Hood sighed, breaking their staredown. “That’s fine, but who’s going to be dealing with him in close range? One team to engage close range, one team to attack from a distance and then break the thing once it lands, right? Attacking from a distance the kid or I can do, assuming you think you can break the spear afterwards too. But close range? We’re a bit short on that.” 

He was right. For the rather haphazard plan to work, they needed to make sure Cu Chulainn couldn’t just close the distance — that something forced him to split his attention enough to require him to attack at a distance. A strong front line was necessary. With two Archers, a Caster, and a Berserker who specialized in guns and bombs, that would be tough. 

“I have some ability in close-range combat, but that is indeed a concern,” Geronimo admitted, crossing his arms. “Also, I do not mean this as a slight, but I am unsure whether Miss Mash has the attack power necessary to break Gae Bolg even if she can defend against it.” 

“That... is true...” Mash said, hanging her head. 

Unexpectedly, Rama cleared his throat. “I could also—” he started to say. 

“No,” Nightingale cut him off. 

“Hey! At least wait for me to finish!” 

“She’s right. Even if she patches you up enough that you can stand, going against Cu Chulainn you would only be a burden,” Geronimo said bluntly. 

“That’s why I said to let me finish! I don’t mean going against him at close range,” Rama shot back, scowling. Huffing, he turned up his nose. “I can also support from a distance.” 

“But isn’t your class Saber?” Mash asked. 

“It is, but I have an ability... Let’s skip the explanation, but basically I can access a lot of different weapons. That includes a bow,” he said. “Originally, I qualify for Archer too, so I’m confident I can do enough to draw his attention. I can break Gae Bolg too. I probably have the best chance at it, even in this state.” 

“Yes, you must have a high Divinity. That would help,” Dr. Roman said. 

Ritsuka nodded slowly, trying to visualize their options. But even adding in Rama’s participation, wasn’t it still...? 

“Yeah, great, but I hope you’re not thinking that frees up me and the kid for frontline combat,” Robin pointed out. “That’s not going to work.” 

Yes, that. That was the problem. No matter how you looked at it, they just didn’t have enough to match Cu Chulainn even for a short while. Geronimo alone wouldn’t be able to do it, and two Archers could only do so much. Even assuming Nightingale went into combat with them, assuming she was willing to leave her patient... 

‘Is it not possible after all? Do we need to take another approach?’ 

If it wasn’t possible, it would be better to come up with some other plan rather than throw away their lives. But the problem was that there were no other options available, or else they wouldn’t have considered something so dangerous to begin with. 

A tense silence stretched on. 

“Alright,” Geronimo said finally. “I understand now what we have to work with. So here is how I suggest we form the teams...” 

~.~ 

The battlefield Cu Chulainn chose was in the north. Amassing a force of Celtic warriors in the previously conquered ruins of Chicago, he set out for Des Moines, the United Western Army’s closest military base and first line of defense. Most likely, he intended to smash through what Western forces remained in the north and begin to encircle the remaining territory around Denver. 

The mechanized infantry could barely contend with an ordinary Servant, no matter their numbers. Even trying to buy time against Cu Chulainn himself would have been a pointless slaughter, so they had wisely abandoned Des Moines and pulled back toward the Black Hills and Riverton, where Ritsuka and Mash had first arrived in America. The fortified encampment was left empty, even some supplies left behind as evacuation took priority. 

However, unbeknownst to them, the rush was unnecessary. 

Cu Chulainn came under attack before he ever approached Des Menois. 

The vanguard under his lead had been moving steadily down an abandoned road that wound between rolling green hills and a few rare trees, less than a day from their destination, when Cu Chulainn stopped without warning. It was more instinct than any observation, but he lifted his head to look up at the clear blue sky. His eyes narrowed in the shadow of his hood. 

—A golden arrow exploded into the earth where he had been standing. 

The man himself had already dodged aside, his spiked tail swinging. Indifferent to the debris showering him or the shockwave of the arrow’s detonation, he spun the crimson spear in his hand and batted aside a second shining arrow — broken apart, the golden bolt burst apart, but lacking the force it would have had otherwise. 

Although Protection from Arrows allowed him to easily evade most projectiles, the explosions would still affect him, and this was certainly only the opening act to something else. 

Indeed, a bright volley soon filled the sky, aimed not at Cu Chulainn but at the troops behind him. Each pierced through, the mass-produced Celtic warriors crumbled under the onslaught, unable to withstand the might of a true Heroic Spirit. 

Cu Chulainn paid them no mind, the presence or lack of backup having no meaning to him. His eyes emotionlessly scanned the surroundings, finally zeroing in on the enemy. 

There, on a hill in the distance, was a flash of flame-like red. 

“Him again. He’s not dead?” Cu Chulainn noted, surprise not quite breaking through disinterest. 

It was unexpected. But it was also irrelevant. Even if Rama had survived Gae Bolg, he would not surprise for much longer. The Mad King would make sure of that. 

But first—

“HAAAH!” With a sharp yell, Mash leaped out of hiding and shot toward him, shield-first. 

Narrowing his eyes, Cu Chulainn dug in his talons and met her charge with one arm. His thick muscles flexed, and he remained motionless. No — he began to push her back, Mash’s boots digging a short furrow through the grass and dirt. A bead of sweat ran down her jaw as she gritted her teeth. 

‘He really is this strong!’ 

The old fear she could never dispel curled in her gut. 

Fortunately, she was not alone. A quick barrage of several golden arrows arched through the air toward Cu Chulainn. He could have evaded, but it would have required him to break off, so he instead swung Gae Bolg in his free hand, swatting each bolt aside. His movements could not be described as easy, but they were not precisely straining either. The strength of each arrow was just enough that he could not simply ignore them. 

Even that was not enough to let Mash disengage safely, much less strike back, but the opening was not for her. In the chaos of the initial assault, another ally had made his way onto the battlefield. 

Geronimo’s knife gleamed as he darted out of hiding and slashed at Cu Chulainn’s bare torso. The timing was perfect, as expected of a Heroic Spirit and an experienced warrior, precisely in the moment of Cu Chulainn’s swing, when he could not move his spear to counter. The Mad King’s spiked tail lashed out, but Geronimo ducked aside and simply changed the angle of his attack. 

A knife alone was little threat, no matter how sharp or well wielded. But if it was perhaps cursed or coated in a particularly potent poison... 

Eyes narrowing slightly, Cu Chulainn stepped back. 

With the pressure momentarily off her, Mash didn’t try to attack. Their hastily assembled group was not nearly familiar enough with each other’s fighting styles to expect a seamless cooperation, so they had meticulously made plans and decided the attack patterns ahead of time. Geronimo had insisted on it. And based on the current situation— 

Mash lunged toward Geronimo, hastily bringing up her shield to cover them both. 

She was just in time to block Cu Chulainn’s retaliatory spear thrust, which screeched against the metal of her shield and would have pushed her back again if Geronimo hadn’t pressed his weight against her back in support. However, that was not what Mash had been most concerned about. 

There was no second follow up attack. Cu Chulainn turned — looking up at the sky suddenly filled with shining arrows, a barrage of dozens that was far more concentrated than the one that took down his troops. 

With his Protection Against Arrows, he could have dodged and deflected all of them. But they weren’t aimed exactly at him to begin with. They flew at every spot around him instead, without heed to the pair of allies that would also be caught up in the ensuing explosions. 

“Tch,” Cu Chulainn clicked his tongue in annoyance, the moment before he was engulfed in a blinding flash of destruction. 

Mash squeezed her eyes tightly, weathering the blast that crashed against her shield. This was not even a full Noble Phantasm and nothing compared to the corrupted Altria’s Excalibur in Fuyuki, much less the many other challenges since then, but she still felt her heart tremble in uncertainty. 

No. Even if Senpai wasn’t behind her this time, she couldn’t hesitate. They were fighting, as they had always been. Ritsuka was counting on her. Chaldea was counting on her. Humanity was counting on her. 

Stooped beside her, Geronimo showed no fear, his breathing calm and even. As a Servant should be — Mash could do no less. Steeling herself, she prepared to resume the battle. 

On a bluff in the distance, Rama dropped to one knee, then swayed and nearly collapsed altogether. He didn’t have the breath to curse, only hissing sharply to Nightingale, “Quickly—!” That last attack took more than he’d expected, or perhaps having to fire so continuously was having a greater toll than he’d been prepared for, especially when imbuing so much power into each arrow. 

Vishnu Bhuja allowed him to wield the weapons Vishnu had been granted, as he himself was an incarnation of Vishnu. The higher his divinity, the greater his mastery — and at the Saber manifestation’s A rank, he could easily call upon countless weapons even outside his class. 

That included the bow of Shiva, Pinaka, which was clutched in his hand. 

Even as a Saber, he was a peerless archer. No matter if he had to load every arrow with magical energy to bypass the protection against projectile weapons recorded in Cu Chulainn’s legend, this much should have been easy for him, and yet he was reduced to this state barely into the battle. 

Without need for his urging, Nightingale was already crouched by his side, applying both her own skills and the Scrolls of Healing she had received from Mash with swift precision. Their effect was barely worth mentioning, compared to his wounds, but after a moment, it was enough for Rama to force himself back to his feet. 

His vision swam as he tried to focus on the swath of upturned earth that had once been a stretch of road. Three figures, as expected, not one yet even close to being out of the fight. 

‘Hurry up and lose your temper! Try to take us out already!’ Rama thought somewhere between annoyance and desperation. 

If this dragged on much longer, he wasn’t sure he’d last... 

Since they did not have any expectation of defeating Cu Chulainn in this battle, Mash and Geronimo didn’t try to press some assumed advantage in the wake of Rama’s attack. Instead, they retreated quickly to give themselves at least a second of breathing room. 

As expected, Cu Chulainn was still standing. 

His shoulders had stooped, smoke rising from his tattered mantle and his arms. The fabric had been burned all the way through in places, showing blackened skin and flesh. The damage was not minor. 

However, it was hardly debilitation either, for a Servant, especially of the Berserker class. And... 

“It’s already healing?!” Mash exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. 

It had to be magecraft of some sort. But normally, a Servant would rely on their Master for healing support. It was in their files that Cu Chulainn was skilled in runecraft — no, Mash had seen that for herself in Fuyuki, even — but they hadn’t expected this level or speed of self-regeneration. 

Cu Chulainn’s red eyes gleamed in the shadow of his hood. Slowly and deliberately, he straightened, towering easily over both her and Geronimo. 

Mash darted in front of Geronimo, readying her shield—

But it was not an attack that followed. Throwing his head back, Cu Chulainn roared. 

It was a terrifying sound more akin to a beast than a man. However, it was more than that. The ground suddenly trembled and jumped, nearly making Mash stumble, and something far stronger than her own unsettled emotions flooded through her mind. It was formless and crushing, making her entire body seize up, even her breath catching in her lungs. 

“A... ah...” 

This couldn’t be just terror. Mash had been afraid too many times and swallowed it down too many times for it to affect her like this, to make her hear vengeful moans and see strange shapes rising out of the earth. 

‘Mental interference?’ she guessed. But even knowing that, she couldn’t do anything—

_ ‘Mash!’  _

Ritsuka’s voice echoed through her mind, along with a flow of soothing magical energy that swept away the effects of the mental interference. Her mind cleared as quickly as it had clouded, and Mash gasped a breath of air as her body and lungs finally returned to normal function. 

She snapped into motion, jumping to cover Geronimo, who had dropped to one knee, clutching his head. This northern land was far from where his people had lived, but the spirits here were still much closer to him than to the others, and the effect of Cu Chulainn’s Madness of the Spirits on him was amplified as a result. Even with Geronimo’s superior skills as a Caster, it would take him a little longer to break free of the mental interference. 

It had been barely a moment. But in battle, a moment could decide everything, and it would have been a moment too long — if Cu Chulainn had attacked them. Most likely, even their last resort fallback wouldn’t have been able to save them. 

Fortunately, he had judged them to be second priority. 

It was a natural choice, to take care of the more distant, persistent enemy, then mop up the ones in close range. 

It was also the choice they had been waiting for. 

Flipping the spear in his hand, Cu Chulainn had shifted his stance. 

“Gae—” 

A bloody crimson aura surged around him, and the ground beneath his claws cracked as his muscles coiled. He leaped into the air — no, he shot up like a shot fired. 

“—BOLG!!” 

Burning brightly, the Spear of Gouging Massacre was launched. This was what they had been aiming for all along, and the central step of their plan. 

Unfortunately, their plan was about to go awry. 

~.~ 

**Notes:** Me: I have no idea what should happen in this battle, I’ve never used any of these Servants except Mash. Also me: But what if I dedicated a couple chapters to it. Skip a battle scene?? Who’d do that?? (Also me, literally a chapter ago.) 

-Please go easy on me regarding the lore and details of how stuff works in Nasuverse. I am only a small fangirl, not the smart kind of nerd. 

-It does seem like Noble Phantasm weapons can be broken. For example, Gordius Wheel by Saber in FZ (and maybe Akhilleus Kosmos by Karna in Apoc?). But it’s definitely not easy. 

-I didn’t have any place to mention this in the chapter, but the Rebellion-Chaldea team was previously hanging out near Alexandria, where there’s a leyline in the forest. 

-This section needs to happen to explain how the America plot deviates because of Sita hijinks, but it's not very interesting, so I'm going to try to post the related chapters quickly, so we can get back to the fun stuff soon. 

~.~


	7. Mission Impossible 2 (Chaldea)

**Chapter 7: Mission Impossible 2**

A shiver inexplicably went up Robin Hood’s spine, making his teeth grind. His temples pounded for a moment, echoing with an unheard protest from the very spirits of the earth. His father had been a druid, and he himself carried some of that ability. It was strongest in the forest, but the cries of the spirits just then had been piercing and furiously agitated. 

There was no doubt regarding the source. For it to reach him even from this distance... 

‘Dammit, what the hell is going on over there? They better not be in over their heads!’ Robin thought, fighting down the instinctive urge to glance back over his shoulder. 

He couldn't do that. That team had their battle to fight, and he had his. His enemies were still in front of him — the main body of the Celtic forces. 

No matter what the situation was against Cu Chulainn, it would become exponentially worse if the rest of his army was allowed to reach them and interfere. Keeping them occupied was Robin’s part to play in Geronimo’s plan. His skills at sabotage and traps made him the best option and the only one able to handle it without additional support. 

Setting everything up between the vanguard and the main force had been hard, and he wasn’t used to the rolling green hills that were quite different from the British forests, but he had made do, and the first wave had marched headlong into his traps. 

Now, poison from his yew tree filled the area, blocking all progress forward, while Robin Hood himself, focused on sniping any Celtic warrior that managed to inch forward. It was a stalemate he could maintain for a good while yet, if necessary. At the very least, he had confidence in holding out until the communicator he had been given gave him the message to retreat. 

What he didn’t have confidence in was the real battle happening somewhere further down the long since ruined road. 

Those guys… were probably in way over their heads. 

No, it wasn’t probably. They were definitely completely outclassed. 

Ireland’s Child of Light was already a fiercesome enough opponent, especially against their motley band without a single real frontliner. But there was something inherently  _ wrong _ about this manifestation of Cu Chulainn that made him all the more dangerous. And combined with the very real possibility that his strength was augmented with the very Holy Grail that had caused this Singularity to begin with... 

There was nothing Robin could do. It was doubtful his presence could have made a difference to begin with, and it was no longer possible to even try. His duty was right here, holding the line. 

“Tch! One after another,” he muttered, as another group of Celtic warriors tried to charge past the line he’d drawn. 

Three shots sliced through the air, his crossbow nearly soundless, and each of the warriors stumbled before they could take another step. Robin Hood clicked his tongue, habitually ducking behind the cover of a few bluffs that surrounded the yew tree he had summoned. It wasn’t as good as the cover of a real forest, but it was better than nothing. 

His hand itched to pull down a hood that wasn’t there, but that small handicap didn’t matter. As long as it gave those guys a better chance, even by the smallest fraction, he could manage on his end. 

‘They better not lose,’ he thought, somewhere between furious and afraid. 

He was putting in this much effort — so they’d better not lose. 

With everything riding on them, they couldn’t lose here. 

~.~

“Gae—”

“It’s too strong,” Ritsuka muttered, his stomach sinking as he stared at Cu Chulainn’s airborne figure and the blazing crimson spear he held aloft. Hiding next to him, Billy cut a sharp glance at him. 

Since the flame-contaminated city, Ritsuka had seen many Noble Phantasms. He couldn’t say he had become accustomed to their awe-inspiring power, but he could compare them and say, ‘Oh, this one is not as powerful as Excalibur Morgan, but it’s stronger than Hamesh Avanim.’ As unsettling as it was to think, he could at least guess the extent of damage they could do — whether Mash’s shield could withstand them, or how far they needed to run to survive. 

Chaldea’s database had a surprisingly thorough file on the Lancer-class Servant, Cu Chulainn, considering they had only encountered him in his Caster incarnation back in Singularity F. Doctor Roman had hemmed and hawed around explaining, instead warning them that the enemy they faced was not the same and this information would not necessarily be accurate. 

As a Berserker, Cu Chulainn would naturally receive the additional strength of Madness Enhancement, and it was possible he had some connection to the Holy Grail that had created this Singularity. Not only his overall combat ability, but even his Noble Phantasm would be stronger. 

They had expected that. It was just that they had no other options. 

If it was Mash’s shield... Even the power gathered in the crimson spear would still be something that could be stopped. That shield had withstood even the dark Excalibur and the Incineration Ceremony of the demon pillars, and Mash had only grown stronger. 

But they couldn’t hold the front line without Mash. It all came back to that. Mash had to face Cu Chulainn directly. 

The question now was whether their fallback plan would be enough. 

_ And Ritsuka was afraid that— _

“—BOLG!!”

The Spear of Gouging Massacre shot out like a cannonball, its target — the flash of red atop a distant hill. 

From his position in hiding, Ritsuka couldn’t see the two figures he knew had to be on that hill, nor could see one of them move. He didn’t hear the declaration of another Noble Phantasm, but he did feel the swell of magical energy as it abruptly gathered and coalesced into a new form. It pulled from him as well, through the Line of his temporary contract with Nightingale. 

The giant white figure of a woman rose up, her nurse’s uniform and cap at odds with the broadsword in her hands. Her movements seemed slow and ponderous as she turned and raised the great sword, but her blade swung precisely to meet the flying crimson spear. The two masses of magical energy clashed, silent but thunderous. 

Nightingale’s Noble Phantasm was not an attack, but it was not a defensive one in the same way as Mash’s either. 

It was Nightingale’s oath and determination given form. Nullifying all negative effects and hostility, it created an absolute safe zone. Weapons, magecraft and even Noble Phantasms were temporarily rendered inert before it. 

Of course, as a Servant, Nightingale was not Cu Chulainn’s match. Her legend and the Mystics at the core of her existence could not begin to compare, and the same was true of their Noble Phantasms. 

The best they could hope for was to reduce Gae Bolg’s strength and curse, and to divert its course, enough for her and Rama to endure. 

_ —it wouldn’t be enough.  _

Gae Bolg hung in the air, straining against the giant angel in white. Unstoppably, it pressed forward, making the form and coalesced energy of Nightingale’s Noble Phantasm distort and twist around it. Clenching his jaw, Ritsuka thrust out his hand. 

“By my Command Spell, I order you—” he rushed through the words desperately, “—protect yourself and Rama!” 

The outermost wings of the three seals glowed and then faded to barely an outline. On the hilltop in the distance, the healing while light surged in response. But rather than extend the clash between the two Noble Phantasms, the additional power brought it to a sharp crescendo. One more flare of magical energy, and both lights collapsed and scattered. 

It hadn’t been enough. In the next instant, Gae Bolg impacted like an artillery round, sending up an explosion of dirt and dust. 

But had it been  _ enough? _

The Line between him and Nightingale wavered but did not dissolve. She was still alive. His face twisted in worry and unease, Ritsuka tried to reassure himself with that. 

Down along the cratered remains of the road to Des Moines, Mash charged at Cu Chulainn with a hoarse warcry. Even for a warrior like him, there was still an inevitable opening after executing that kind of throw, and she had aimed to take advantage of that, to keep him occupied for a few moments longer — long enough to let Rama and Nightingale find some way to break the spear that had been separated from its wielder. 

If they were still even able to move. If their plan hadn’t been doomed from the start. 

“Right, my turn now,” Billy said abruptly. “I’m goin’ in. You get out of here too, Fujimaru!” 

He didn’t glance back to confirm. The two of them had remained in hiding under Robin’s cloak from the start of the ambush, in the branches of a lone tree just far enough from the battlefield to not be caught up. Now, slipping out from under the green cloth, Billy dropped to the ground and took off running toward the battle. 

Whether they had succeeded or not, they would pull out once Cu Chulainn threw Gae Bolg. That was what Geronimo had firmly directed. 

But he wouldn’t let Geronimo and Mash, who had engaged him directly, just run as they pleased, so it was Billy’s role to cover their retreat, while Ritsuka retreated alone but safely hidden under the camouflage protection of No Face May King’s physical manifestation. 

The crack of gunshots began to ring out almost immediately as Billy fired his revolver even while running full tilt. None of them would hit, but the need to evade would occupy just a little bit of Cu Chulainn’s attention. 

Ritsuka glanced again toward the hilltop in the distance, where the cloud of dust was only just starting to thin. There had been no reaction from Cu Chulainn, so that had to mean... 

He was supposed to retreat quietly without ever making his presence known or risking himself by approaching the battlefield. With Mash elsewhere, he would be nearly defenseless. There would be nothing he could do anyway, and at worst he could even become a deadly distraction to the others.

But— 

There was no one watching the lone tree, but even if they had been, they would have been able to see him jump down and hurry away, swathed in a ragged green cloak, the hood pulled up over his head. 

~.~ 

_ ‘—protect ▃▃▅▅ and Rama!’ _

The Command Spell that echoed through Nightingale’s mind was accompanied not only by a surge of pure magical energy, but also by a will and determination that flowed into her, warm and strong. It made her understand, more clearly than ever, why a Servant could only bring out their full potential for a Master’s sake and why those summoned by a Master would fight so fiercely to fulfill their wish. 

It was not a command she needed. Protecting her patient was something she would naturally do without reservation. She would continue to fight even alone, even if no one supported her or listened to her. But the feeling of having someone at her back was... 

Nightingale’s Noble Phantasm was the expression of her way of life and her pledge. Just like Mash’s shield, its strength was tied directly to the strength of her will. Her will would never waver — but with the Command Spell and her Master’s support, it focused and intensified. 

The giant woman in white brought down her sword. 

Surging over Gae Bolg, it stripped away layers of its blood red aura and shifted its path. 

But even more than Ritsuka in the distance, Nightingale could tell it would not be nearly enough. The difference in power was simply too great. 

_ Protect the patient.  _

“Get down!” She threw herself at Rama, who had been watching tense and silent beside her. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled his head down and curled around him protectively — just as the crimson spear crashed down behind them. 

The shockwave from the impact sent them flying. Buffeted by both debris and rampaging magical energy, they tumbled down the hill slope. 

Despite being described as a woman made of steel, Nightingale had a Servant’s constitution and no more than that. She was hardly impervious to hard. Her shoulder, her back, her ankle and the opposite knee, a particularly sharp pain across her forehead and her right eye — the injuries increased until her entire body ached when they finally slid to a stop at the foot of the hill. 

Nightingale didn’t pay that pain any mind. The state of her own body didn’t matter, compared to the patient in her arms. 

She had done her utmost to shied Rama, but his state had been precarious to begin with. Even this much had knocked him unconscious. Blood had soaked through the bandages across his chest, and he coughed weakly as Nightingale lowered him to the ground. At least she had been able to cancel out the curse Gae Bolg had carried. If a second one had layered on Rama, in his state, his Spirit Origin would have already collapsed, no matter how strong his will to live. 

Her hands moved without hesitation, pulling out the remaining Scroll of Healing she had received and calling up her own abilities to treat Rama’s injuries as quickly as possible. Stabilizing his condition was the most important thing—

Although Nightingale’s movements never slowed or faltered, her expression furrowed with an uncharacteristic uncertainty. She couldn’t help glancing back up toward the top of the hill. 

Among the clouds of dust kicked up by the impact, she couldn’t see the spear that had plunged into the hilltop, but she knew it was still there. 

The purpose of this mission was to destroy it. If they couldn’t accomplish that, Rama would die before long. 

What she needed to do to save her patient was... was...

A hand clamped unexpectedly onto her wrist. Coughing weakly, Rama grunted and tried to tighten his grip. The pressure was barely noticeable to her, and certainly not enough to halt her movements, but Nightingale turned her head just enough to meet his blurry gaze. 

“...the spear...” he rasped, squinting and making something that might have been an attempt at movement. “We... have to...” 

They had to destroy the spear. That was their purpose. 

Again, Nightingale felt a horrible uncertainty twist her very core. Rama couldn’t even sit up, and Gae Bolg was at the top of the hill. She would need to leave him and run back, and hopefully break it herself. But leaving her patient, who was bleeding out right in front of her? How could she bring herself to do that? 

If she left him, he would die. If she didn’t leave him, he would die. 

Why? Why was it still like this? Even after she had lost her humanity and obtained powers she could have never wielded while alive, there were still so many patients she couldn’t save. There was still war and disease far beyond her capacity. She still couldn’t do  _ enough. _

“What are you… waiting for?!” Rama gritted out. The sharp tips of his gauntlet prickled at her wrist, before his strength gave out and his hand dropped. 

Blood had long since soaked through Nightingale’s gloves and cuffs. She had only barely managed to keep his condition from deteriorating, but it was still far from stable. Even now, if she paused treatment even for a few moments, he would surely bleed out. 

But their mission...

For the sake of countless other patients, the soldiers on the battlefields of this war, the civilians across the country, and all of humanity that had lost its foundation… 

She had to… She had to… 

She couldn’t make that choice. Nightingale’s hands trembled, and she froze under the weight of her own indecision. 

And then. 

“Nightingale!” 

A voice called out, sudden and very close. In the next moment, fabric shifted and Ritsuka came into sight, crouching down next to them. His eyes darted quickly over Rama’s battered form, his brow furrowing with pained worry. Until then, her impression of him had been as someone who watched and listened, and carefully thought over everything before making a choice. Cautious and contemplative. But there was not even a moment of hesitation before his lips thinned and his face showed a determined expression. 

“We have to go,” Ritsuka said. 

Nightingale blinked, and drew a short, sharp breath. 

“—Yes,” she agreed. 

It hadn’t been a command, and even if it had been, she had ignored and refused countless orders before. But the fact that someone else was there finally tipped the scales, letting her move forward again. 

“I’ll carry him,” Ritsuka volunteered. “Will it be alright to move him?” 

“Yes, I will treat him as we move,” Nightingale said. She wouldn’t have been able to do it alone, but her Master was here now. 

Rama grimaced, stubbornly clinging to consciousness. “N… no!” he tried to protest. “The spear…!” 

“We always knew this might not work,” Ritsuka said. “The priority is for us to stay alive, so we can come up with a new plan. We have to go. Doctor!” 

At his raised voice, the comm device on his voice beeped in response. In a heavy but unwavering tone, Ritsuka delivered the news. 

“Let Mash know… we failed.” 

~.~

The spare communicator Mash had been given beeped. 

“Mash!” came Doctor Roman’s voice, sharp and tense. “It’s time!” 

Chaldea had been monitoring the entire battle, but it had been agreed that they would limit communications, both to avoid distracting the Servants in the middle of combat and to lessen the chances of giving away some hint of their plans to Cu Chulainn. Although his Class was Berserker, he had proven far too lucid and capable of strategic thought. 

With that in mind, Doctor Roman had not told them whether the mission was a failure or a success. Mash couldn’t read his tone of voice either. But there was no time to think about it anyway. 

“Geronimo!” she called out. 

They hadn’t been stalling Cu Chulainn for long, but it had felt like an eternity balanced on a knife blade. Even with Billy joining in to provide support, they had only barely avoided serious injury so far, and Mash had been forced to leave Geronimo to handle the brunt of combat alone more than she liked while screening Cu Chulainn from taking out Billy as well. 

In fact, her cue was not for Geronimo, aside from letting him know it was time to retreat. 

The one who moved was Billy. 

“Here goes, time for a showdown! Have a taste of my Thunderer!” he shouted, ducking out from behind Mash. His gun was already in his hand, the barrel gleaming. 

Cu Chulainn doubtlessly felt the sudden spike in magical energy, but Billy’s greatest asset was his speed. Leaving his opponent no time to react, three shots rang out in such quick succession that they sounded like a single peal of thunder. The ringing in her ears drowned out Cu Chulainn’s quiet grunt, more annoyed than pained, but Mash didn’t waste time confirming further. 

By using his Noble Phantasm, Billy could overturn Protection From Arrows, but it was too much to hope to seriously injure Cu Chulainn, especially given the abnormal regeneration they had witnessed. Their aim was only to provide enough of an opening to disengage. 

So, turning on her heel, Mash ran. 

Billy was right behind her, his revolver ringing out as he fired haphazardly over his shoulder. There wasn’t much chance of actually hitting, but as a Servant of the gun, he couldn’t run out of bullets, and if each one bought them even a quarter of a second, that could already mean the difference between life and death. 

Before going into battle, Robin had scouted the area and determined the best rendezvous point — a ravine to the south, where losing any pursuers would be easy. He himself knew to head there after a set period of time, and Ritsuka had No Face May King to cover him. For Nightingale and Rama, there was nothing more they could do now, but hopefully Cu Chulainn would right them off as dead by his spear. Hopefully, this was not true… 

Preoccupied with these thoughts, Mash didn’t notice that something was wrong until Billy called out unexpectedly. 

“Geronimo?!” he shouted between gunshots, making her turn and finally glance back. 

“Keep going!” Geronimo ordered sharply, but he himself was doing the opposite. He had visibly fallen behind, standing between them and Cu Chulainn. “It looks like I’ll have to play the ace up my sleeve...” 

“But—!” Mash tried to protest, only to find herself pulled along by Billy, who had indeed kept going as ordered. 

His expression was set into a grim mask, lips pursed and jaw clenched, but he didn’t hesitate, only picking up speed and dragging Mash with him onward. “Billy, we have to go back!” she insisted, glancing back again. 

“If we do, we all die,” Billy said, his tone too controlled for the grimace on his face or the tightness of his grip on Mash’s arm. “He knows the score, and he’s made his choice.” 

Behind them, Geronimo had dropped to one knee — not out of fear or surrender, but in prayer. 

“Oh spirit! Oh sun...!”

Magical energy swirled around him, rising from the earth itself. His intention was obvious — to use his Noble Phantasm and buy them time to escape. But a Noble Phantasm wasn’t something that could be used easily, and his in particular required him to remain stationary through its activation. It was practically the same as sacrificing himself. 

Mash tugged futilely once more, but Billy’s grip was firm. 

“Don’t stop!” he ordered. “Your Master’s still waiting for you!” 

‘Senpai...’ 

Originally, it had not taken Cu Chulainn long to recover, but he had followed after them without any sense of urgency, whether out of caution for more reinforcements lying in wait or out of confidence that he would catch them in the end, no matter how far they ran. They could only run for so long, after all. Eventually, they would have to face him. What difference would it make, if that was now or later? 

Seeing Geronimo’s actions, his eyes narrowed. No matter how confident he was, there was no point in letting himself be hit by a Noble Phantasm if it wasn’t necessary. 

“Lend me your strength for this moment!” Geronimo’s voice as he continued his chant. 

His familiar spirit shot forward to meet Cu Chulainn as he charged, the three prongs on its head aimed forward like a trident. It was not a powerful spirit, meant more as a medium and focus, but there was one thing it could do. 

When Cu Chulainn tried to swipe it aside, a bolt of lightning struck down, accompanied by the sharp crack of thunder. 

Cu Chulainn grunted. A spell of this level couldn’t seriously harm him, but it was enough to stun him for a moment, still just out of reach of Geronimo. 

“The great trick...” Geronimo pronounced. “Tsago Degi Naleya!”

The magical energy gathered around him surged outward, coalescing into the shape of a large beast — the Coyote. Summoning forth this guardian spirit of the Apache, as recounted in their legends, was Geronimo’s Noble Phantasm. However, that was only the beginning. Even as it threw back its head and howled, the Coyote did not attack. 

The one that attacked was the Sun. 

Light and heat flooded down across the landscape, immediately scorching the grass yellow and brown. The sunlight intensified with every passing moment, hitting everything around the Coyote like a physical weight. 

Cu Chulainn’s dark form was like a single single against the increasingly washed out, bright scenery. It was impossible to make out his expression, but his killing intent permeated the air. Even with his experience as a warrior and the heat of the Sun, Geronimo felt cold sweat trickle down his back. 

The difference between a modern Heroic Spirit and an ancient one was truly extreme. 

There was no time to waste. The distance left between them could be crossed in moments, and Cu Chulainn was already moving, shaking off the Sun’s might and swatting aside Geronimo’s small familiar. 

“Oh great guardian! Go!” Geronimo shouted, raising his hand and gesturing sharply. 

However, what he pointed to was not the enemy in front of him. It was the distant remains of a hill, and the spear still lodged in the crater it had created. 

It was only logical. If he tried to simply stall Cu Chulainn to let the others escape, there was little chance he could do any meaningful damage or even buy more than a minute or two. Even his Noble Phantasm and every skill he had wouldn’t be enough. Even if he fought like a demon until he was ripped apart, wasn’t Cu Chulainn known for being the same as well? In the end, weighing all potential outcomes, the best Geronimo could do was this single secret plan he hadn’t shared with the others. 

This would push his Noble Phantasm beyond its maximum range — but, ah well, he wasn’t leaving here anyway. 

The Coyote howled again and leapt forth, racing toward the distant hill where Gae Bolg was buried. 

Cu Chulainn’s head jerked toward it instinctively, but his reasoning was extremely quick and immediately judged the best way of solving the problem. If the Servant was killed, the spirits would also surely disperse. With barely a change in his expression, he dashed toward Geronimo. 

With his magical energy siphoning into his Noble Phantasms, there wasn’t much Geronimo could do to defend himself. He rolled aside, dodging the first bare-fisted blow that cracked the ground on impact, and slashed out with his knife, but Cu Chulainn calmly swept it aside, heedless of the blade cutting deep into his forearm. His other hand closed around Geronimo’s throat. 

Geronimo kicked him in the stomach, using what leverage he could gain to shove Cu Chulainn away. He clawed at the other Servant’s face, and he would have bitten if he could twist his head enough. It didn’t matter how graceless or without dignity, he would use any means to buy just another second more. 

A heavy blow to his chest made him cough blood, but it had not hit his Spiritual Core directly. Geronimo grinned, his teeth bloody and frightening. 

In the distance, the Coyote touched down onto the ruined remains of a hill. Biting the crimson spear lodged there between its teeth, it threw back its head and howled once more. 

Its jaws clenched, straining for a moment against the weapon. 

There was a sharp, sudden crack, and Gae Bolg, the legendary weapon of Ireland’s great hero, shattered into two. Under the still burning rays of the Sun, the pieces — now lacking the integrity of the whole weapon — blackened and crumbled into ash. 

With this, they could be considered to have achieved a victory, no matter how small. 

“Tch,” Cu Chulainn clicked his tongue. “Do you think you won something? It’s just one rib.” 

He pulled back, though it hardly mattered — Geronimo was in no shape to run or fight. A black haze gathered around his form, completely hiding his face. Something glowed crimson in the unnatural darkness, which expanded into a terrifying, sharp-edged silhouette. 

“I’ve still got the rest of it too, you know?” 

~.~

**Notes:** Part 2! That was way too many moving pieces. 

-It is mentioned in CCC, I believe, that Robin gave No Face May King to Passionlip, so that is also possible. Maybe. 

-This battle is the AU equivalent of their assassination attempt on Medb, so naturally it goes poorly, though at least there’s some gains this time. 

-Cu is talking about Curruid Coinchenn. According to his profile, Gae Bolg was made from its rib(s), and he uses the rest of its skeleton in his NP. 

~.~


	8. Child's Play (Chaldea)

**Chapter 8: Child’s Play**

When making their escape, all three of them had traveled under Robin’s cloak and its concealment. It hadn’t been hard. At first, they had all been glued together regardless, with Ritsuka carrying Rama and Nightingale needing to stay by his side to provide treatment as they moved along. Then, once Rama’s condition stabilized, Nightingale had insisted on carrying him herself and Ritsuka had reluctantly agreed, sticking close to her. 

There was no helping it. They certainly wouldn’t have been able to outrun the Celts if they had been discovered while escaping. 

It would be a terrible shame to get caught out after their mission had succeeded. 

They hadn’t gone far yet when Geronimo’s Noble Phantasm raced through the sky and alighted onto the remains of the hill nearby. They had clearly seen the moment it destroyed Gae Bolg. 

‘So he had a secret plan like that,’ Ritsuka thought admiringly. Compared to Chaldea’s somewhat clumsy fumbling and constant struggles to stay afloat in the strange circumstances of each Singularity, Geronimo had the skills of a real leader. 

Unfortunately, the rendezvous point was still a way off. There was no doubt they’d arrive last. 

...For all its magic properties, Robin’s cloak still behaved just like normal cloth in some ways. Completely covered up, traveling quickly under the bright sun overhead, it was a little hot. 

Although it was not to a dangerous level, supporting both Mash and Nightingale in the battle had drained a fair amount of Ritsuka’s magical energy. They had also traveled quite urgently to arrive at the battlefield in the first place. Combined together, he felt a growing sense of exhaustion. It was a little hard to keep focused, no matter how much he reminded himself that they weren’t in the clear yet. 

His communicator beeped, startling Ritsuka out of his daze. 

“Fujimaru, can you take down No Face May King?” Doctor Roman’s voice came over the comm. “Mash is coming to meet you. Don’t worry, I’m not picking up anyone in your vicinity.” 

A smile split Ritsuka’s face. “Right!” he agreed and quickly began to pull the cloak off. 

Since there was no more reason to remain pressed to Nightingale’s side, he stepped back — and finally got a good look at her state. He hadn’t had time to worry about it before, but he could clearly see now that her uniform was in tatters and darkened by dried bloodstains. Even her braid had come almost entirely undone, leaving pale hair tangled messily across her shoulders. 

His brows furrowed, even though Nightingale’s expression hadn’t changed and her pace hadn’t slowed the entire time. 

“Why don’t we take a break and wait for Mash to arrive?” Ritsuka suggested. 

Finally pausing, Nightingale glanced back at him with a frown. But it wasn’t an outright refusal, so he went on. 

“Rama is already doing better now that the death curse is lifted, right? There’s no harm in resting a little,” Ritsuka reasoned. “It’ll be easier for Mash to find us if we’re in one place too, and we’ll move faster once she’s here.” 

Reluctantly, Nightingale nodded. “Very well… Master.” 

Hearing that from someone other than Mash was still strange to Ritsuka. With Mash, at least, he could think of it as something similar to her ‘Senpai,’ but Nightingale was a hero and an adult woman who had lived an entire life of experiences he couldn’t even imagine. Surely she knew better than he did about how to handle a battlefield or the injured or her own stamina. 

But for some reason, she was counting on him. If nothing else, Ritsuka didn’t want to let her down. 

Even with Gae Bolg’s curse lifted, Rama’s wounds were extremely serious. Most of his heart had been destroyed, which would take time to recover from, even for a Servant and with Nightingale’s treatments. His face was palid, and he didn’t stir even as Nightingale laid him down gently on the ground. However, at least his condition was no longer actively worsening every moment, and some of the strain had eased from his expression. 

Although the Ramayana documented his entire life, all the way through adulthood, Rama had manifested as a teenager even younger than Ritsuka, with surprisingly delicate features and a slight build. That was a lucky thing, in a way — otherwise, Ritsuka wouldn’t have been able to carry him. 

Of course, things like physical build didn’t mean much to Servants — for example, the even slighter, shorter figure that was racing toward them faster than any Olympic medalist. 

“Senpai!” Mash called out, her tone carrying both relief and an almost frantic undercurrent. “Senpai!!” 

“Mash!” Ritsuka called back, quickly jumping to his feet and waving energetically. 

“Senpai!” With one last exclamation, Mash crashed directly into him. Throwing her arms around him, she hugged him tightly and with enough force to nearly lift Ritsuka off his feet. Her rigid armor dug into his chest and sides, but Ritsuka didn’t mind too much, patting her back comfortingly after a moment of surprise. 

It was just that... this reaction was a bit strong. The shadow of suspicion began to form in his mind. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he said, pulling away gently and looking Mash up and down, his hands on her shoulders. Having been on the front line, she was naturally somewhat worse for wear, but none of her injuries were on the same level as Nightingale’s, and it was clear she would recover after a short while. 

“And Senpai? Are you alright? Nightingale is...” Mash glanced worriedly at their companions. 

“I can still continue,” Nightingale said. However, the fact that she hadn’t stood up yet was telling in its own way. Even she knew she needed to rest as much as she could. 

“We’ll be fine. Even Rama is doing better,” Ritsuka said. He hesitated — originally, he would have praised Geronimo for pulling off a turnabout victory, but the feeling of unease was gnawing at him. Instead, he asked hesitantly, “And you... how is everyone else? Are they all waiting for us?” 

He couldn’t quite manage the sheepish smile he’d intended. 

Mash’s expression dropped. 

If there was something serious, then surely Doctor Roman would have told him? But even as he thought this, Ritsuka could guess that wasn’t necessarily the case. Under the pretext of not wanting to distract him, Doctor Roman might have very well chickened out of having to break the news. 

What had happened, after their group retreated? Who had been hurt? Was it Robin, who had been fighting alone? Or Billy? Or... 

“Mash?” he prompted. 

“...Senpai...” Mash murmured, biting her lip and refusing to meet his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she tried to steel herself. “It’s Geronimo. He...” 

Ritsuka listened silently and, at the end, let out a long, slow breath. 

So it was like that. 

~.~

Since their rendezvous point was decided ahead of time, they had also prepared horses and even a small wagon for their escape — since it was quite likely that someone would be in condition to ride horseback. While waiting for Mash to return with the rest of their group, Billy and Robin had readied everything for departure and were waiting in silence by the wagon. 

Neither appeared tense outwardly, but the number of cigarette butts by Robin’s feet gave away that they were not necessarily as calm as they looked. 

“All here now? Then let’s get going,” Robin said, as Mash let Ritsuka down. 

On the way back, Nightingale had insisted on continuing to carry Rama, while Mash carried Ritsuka to let them move at a Servant’s speed. It was still a little embarrassing, but Ritsuka had more or less gotten used to being carried around a few Singularities back. Generally being the only human in the party, he knew accommodating his needs often slowed them down as it was. 

Nightingale stepped up first, without further prompting, to load Rama into the wagon. She would ride with him, both for the sake of his injuries and her own. Robin and Billy each moved toward a saddled horse, while Mash glanced at Ritsuka. 

“Senpai, do you want to ride a horse? Or go in the wagon?” she asked. Making use of her Riding skill, she would be acting as the coachman. 

Ritsuka considered it for a moment. As a life-long city dweller, he had been completely incapable with horses at first, even falling off a very tame mare back in Rome — to Nero’s great amusement. However, he had inevitably gotten more practice since then. He thought he could probably manage, although the thought of his aching thighs afterwards was still rather daunting. 

On the other hand, it was probably better not to weigh down the wagon more than they had to. 

Sighing, Ritsuka said, “I’ll ride for now, and then maybe we can switch—” 

They could switch the horses, he was going to say. After all, they had two spares, one for the third person riding in the wagon which was pulled by only two horses, and one for… 

However, he didn’t get a chance to finish. 

Without warning, the quiet if tense scene of departure burst into chaos. Billy and Robin yelled something, their voice mixing with gunshots from Billy’s revolver and the sudden neighing of the horses, which cut off into a frightening, dying sound. Ritsuka turned, feeling as if he was moving through molasses, and tried to understand what was happening, as Mash dashed in front of him, her shield materializing in her hands. 

A towering shadow had appeared in their midst, sweeping through like a black wind. With a single, sweeping movement, it had thrown Robin’s horse aside, blood gushing from deep gouges across its side. Robin himself had been in the middle of mounting, but his instincts had warned him just in time and he had thrown himself aside. 

Billy, fastest on the draw, had immediately opened fire, but not a single shot had connected. 

The shadow straightened, barbed tail dripping with blood. An aura of death emanated from it. 

“Ristuka, what’s happening?! I can suddenly pick up a Servant’s signature right on top of you!” Doctor Roman’s panicked voice came from Ritsuka’s communicator. “It looks like—” 

Swallowing heavily, Ritsuka couldn’t answer. 

“Archers are always such a pain,” Cu Chulainn said, his tone bland and unconcerned. “And here I had waited until you were all off guard…” 

“You… You were—?!” Mash stammered, her eyes wide in shock and fear. 

“He followed us,” Robin sighed, sounding frustrated with himself and far too calm. “After all, isn’t it easier to take us all out at once than to hunt down each group separately? Very smart, very efficient.” 

His praise sounded rather sarcastic, but Cu Chulainn only rolled his shoulders in a careless shrug. “That’s right,” he agreed. “So this is all of you? You really thought you could deal with me when you only have this much?” His eyebrows rose mockingly under the shadow of his hood, but his expression soon smoothed out again. “...Not that it matters. Even if there were three times as many of you, the outcome would be the same. 

"This will be a massacre. None of you will survive.”

Ritsuka’s thought restarted with a snap. 

“Mash, protect the wagon!” he shot out an order. “Nightingale, escape first—!” 

Several gunshots reverberated through the narrow canyon, deeper and more powerful than Billy’s Thunderer. Continuing to fire with one hand, Nightingale pulled out a stick grenade and yanked the pin out with her teeth. 

Forget it. There was no stopping her from charging into battle. 

“Robin, Billy! Take the reins!” Ritsuka called out, just before the soaring grenade exploded, throwing out a cloud of smoke. 

In the confusion, he couldn’t see how they settled between them who would go and who would fight, but a moment later, Billy was on the driver’s bench and skillfully taking control of the panicking horses hitched to the wagon. 

“We’ll be goin’ first! Yah!” With a snap of the reins, the horses burst into motion, and the wagon raced off. 

Rather than jump on as it dashed past him, Ritsuka quickly pulled up the hood of Robin’s cloak, which he hadn’t had a chance to return. Getting the injured Rama off the battlefield had been the first priority, but with the fight quickly descending into chaos, he knew he would become more of a liability than a help. 

Naturally, Cu Chulainn hadn’t been standing to the side watching. After he had waited for them to gather together, letting them split up would mean undoing all his work and having to chase down stranglers, so he had moved to intercept the wagon. However, Nightingale had already thrown herself into the fray, colliding with him head on. There was a great difference in their strengths, but her ferocity was befitting a Berserker and not something that could be stepped aside. At the very least, it distracted Cu Chulainn for a few precious moments. 

Now the rest of them just needed to escape as well. 

Unfortunately, that would not be such a simple matter. 

It wouldn’t be possible at all. 

Finally getting past Nightingale’s frenzied rush, Cu Chulainn sent her flying with a ruthless backhand. She plowed into the ground with enough force to leave a long furrow — and a streak of blood where her side and shoulder were torn open by the rocks. 

“Nightingale!” Mash cried out. Hefting her shield, she swung it at Cu Chulainn with a war cry, but just as before, he blocked it with just one arm, and the contest of strength quickly began to turn against her. 

However, this time, Cu Chulainn had already figured out her limitations. His tail swung at her from the side. Mash turned quickly to meet it, and in that moment, Cu Chulainn pushed forward, knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a dull thud and a grunt of surprise. 

“Mash!” 

Carelessly ducking several arrows from Robin Hood, Cu Chulainn rammed his fist into the ground where her head had been before she just barely managed to roll out of the way. She tried to kick him, but he easily caught her leg and tightened his hand until her greaves creaked in protest. 

“Get... away!” Mash protested. She tried to kick him with her other foot, but Cu Chulainn only straightened and, lifting her up by her foot, slammed her into the ground again. 

The impact left a deep indent, making the earth shake enough to nearly knock Ritsuka off his feet. Coughing up a mouthful of blood, Mash shuddered weakly as she barely clung to consciousness. 

“MASH!” Ritsuka yelled. 

He had moved back quickly when the fighting started, and now he was too far away. Even if he ran, he wouldn’t be able to reach Mash in time to do anything. The spells in his Mystic Code and the possible commands he could give flashed through his mind, but none of it would be enough. A horrible sense of fear gripped him. 

Cursing, Robin Hood fired rapidly and haphazardly toward Cu Chulainn, even knowing that not a single arrow would hit. Yet, what else could he do? His poison wouldn’t work nearly fast enough, and all of his skills were geared toward ambush, not direct combat. 

“Time to kill—” 

Ritsuka’s heart lodged in his throat. 

‘Anyone, please, please—’

And his prayer was answered. 

Cu Chulainn had drawn back his arm, when he inexplicably paused — and leaped back, away from Mash. He moved just in time, as a projectile flung with what could only be the strength of a Servant drove into the place he had been standing, burying itself well past its tip. 

It was a crimson spear. It was, unmistakably, Gae Bolg. 

But how? 

Despite his broken weapon’s reappearance, Cu Chulainn did not seem pleased as he landed a short distance away. His face showed the strongest emotion he had displayed so far — a scowling annoyance. 

“To think even you were summoned here,” he muttered. “If you’re stepping in here, that means you are also my enemy.” He wasn’t angry. But it was obvious that he was also not pleased. An unreadable emotion flashed behind his eyes. 

A woman chuckled quietly in the thick silence. “Why yes. You know how it goes...” she said. 

Then, she finally made her appearance. Landing gracefully beside Gae Bolg, she effortlessly pulled it free and twirled it a few times in her hand. Her eyes never left Cu Chulainn and, despite her cool expression, there was no give in her bearing. 

“I've decided to allow these children to escape with their lives,” she continued, as if that decided everything. “After all, they are good children fighting for their future... unlike you, Setanta. It’s unbearable to see the fool you've become.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me — what has possessed you?”

Cu Chulainn’s eyes narrowed, and the silence stretched over the interrupted battle, growing more and more tense. 

“Ritsuka,” Doctor Roman’s voice was barely a whisper, although that was no guarantee he would go unheard by the Servants. “That woman is most likely Cu Chulainn’s mentor, Scathach. Take the chance to run while she’s confronting him.” 

Run... that was easier said than done. Scathach had taken a step forward, but Mash was still right behind her, too injured to even crawl away. 

Scathach had interfered just in time to save them, and she had said she intended to let them escape. Most likely... she would not attack them. With this in mind, Ritsuka began to cautiously inch toward Mash’s prone form. He was still hidden under No Face May King, but once he reached Mash, there was no doubt his position would be given away. 

At the same time, he could see that Robin had the same idea, moving silently toward where Nightingale lay unconscious. Their eyes met. ...Come to think of it, Robin could probably see through his own Noble Phantasm. Ritsuka nodded, though Robin did not return the gesture to avoid giving anything away. 

“...Quit calling me by that name,” Cu Chulainn said. “I’m not a child anymore, and I don’t owe you any answers.” 

That was quite a thing to tell his mentor, but Scathach only hummed in acknowledgement. “Is that so... Or do you not have an answer to give?” However, she didn’t press the question, and only went on, “In that case, the only thing left for us to do is fight to the death. Even though you’ve become like this, you're still my student. I should behead you out of mercy.”

The shadow of a smile played across her lips, and her eyes narrowed. She held up a free hand — and a second crimson spear appeared in her grasp. 

Ritsuka gulped. Closing the remaining distance, he knelt next to Mash and placed one hand on her shoulder. Even though he could see his own body clearly, he was still invisible to anyone else, and Mash started in surprise at the unexpected touch. He didn’t dare to say anything and only silently activated a spell within his Mystic Code — First Aid. 

Even with this, she wouldn't be able to escape under her own power, but she could at least gingerly turn over and climb to her knees. It would have to be enough. 

In a single quick motion, Ritsuka threw the cloak over her as well. Without waiting for a reaction, he pulled her over his shoulder and took off at a run, Mash doing her best to stumble along beside him. 

Naturally, their actions hadn’t been missed. Cu Chulainn started forward, but Scathach moved as well, blocking his line of attack. She smiled again, the crimson spears in her hands gleaming. “I said I’ve decided to let them go,” she reminded him. “Are you ready to fight me, Cu Chulainn?” 

Cu Chulainn turned his head to watch Robin make a break for it as well, Nightingale thrown over his shoulder haphazardly. However, he didn’t move. 

It was unclear what he was thinking. 

“We won't fight here,” he said finally. “I know you. I won’t win unless I'm ready to die, and there is still something I must do. When we fight, it will be when there's no one left to kill. Whether or not some brats escape for a while doesn’t make a difference.” 

“Something you have to do? Here at the end of the world? That’s not like you,” Scathach said. “You have always been one unburdened by regrets.” 

“It’s not a regret,” Cu Chulainn said. “When did you become so nosy? Just get out of my sight, and don’t come back until everyone has died off. Or else I won’t be able to hold it back anymore. You don’t want that either, or you would’ve already attacked me.” He paused, considering his mentor. “Don’t tell me you think those weak fools who just escaped can actually stop me with their own power?” 

“Who knows,” Scathach smiled. But just as he had instructed, she took a step back, no longer a hair’s breadth from battle. “For now, I’ll wait and see. If it comes to that, I’ll do my duty. When you no longer have a way to die, I'll kill you with a smile.”

She raised one spear as if in salute, and a magic circle flashed in front of her. When the light faded, her figure had already disappeared. 

“...A shield rune to escape from the battlefield, huh?” Cu Chulainn easily recognized her trick. “Kill me with a smile? Who asked for that? I’m not you, you witch.” 

The complaints came out of habit, but even muttering them felt hollow. There should have been something more, coming face to face with his old teacher and standing against her as an enemy, but even she couldn’t stir a true emotion from him. 

All of it really... didn’t matter at all. 

The ending had already been decided. 

~.~

**Notes:** We’re breaking here because next I’d need to write Scathach and I don’t want to. :/ Instead, we’re going to have some more adventures with the Gone Wild team. There’s, uh, a bit of tonal dissonance between the different plot threads. 


	9. Wild Wild West (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 9: Wild Wild West**

Beowulf was a hero worthy of his legend, and his battle prowess would earn praise from any opponent. 

Arjuna’s impressions of their battle could be put this way, politely. 

Less politely, Beowulf had been a freak who deserved to be a Berserker even when lucid and unencumbered by Madness Enhancement. Who throws away their weapon to use their fists instead? Fighting down a scowl, Arjuna rubbed his sore jaw, where he could practically feel a knuckle-shaped imprint. 

It wasn’t as if Arjuna himself didn’t have any hand to hand combat skill, but did Beowulf think a duel between Servants was the same as a bar brawl? Barbarian! 

“...Are you alright, Lord Arjuna?” Sita asked, noticing his poor mood. 

“I’m fine,” Arjuna replied, quickly schooling his expression and posture back to the proper appearance. “An opponent of that caliber cannot hope to defeat me.” 

Sita watched him for an uncomfortably long moment. “Mm, of course,” she agreed finally, but something in her tone immediately put Arjuna on guard. “Lord Arjuna’s might is undeniable. The mountain will stand testament to that... the half of it that’s left.” 

“T-that—!” Taken off guard, Arjuna momentarily floundered. 

He had, perhaps, gone a bit overboard... and destroyed quite a bit of the surrounding landscape... including half a mountain. But what did it matter? This was only a Singularity! 

Sita nodded knowingly, her smile calm and understanding. “Of course,” she agreed. 

As expected of a great hero’s wife. She was not an easy opponent either. 

Arjuna purposefully gentled his bearing and gave his most tolerant look. “Of course,” he agreed. 

...She was definitely laughing at him on the inside. “But that reminds me of something,” Sita said, breaking the stalemate. “I should have asked before, but I was too caught up in my frustration. Lord Arjuna, are you really alright? I can tell that you’ve become caught up in our Curse of Separation once you stepped between me and Lord Rama. In a way, you are the wedge temporarily pinning my existence here. The effect on you...” 

“It’s negligible,” Arjuna said, shaking his head. “I am only an outsider, so my existence is only slightly coming in contact with your curse. It cannot affect me, but as you said — my effect upon it is also only temporary.” 

He had certainly felt it, when they were facing Rama directly. By declaring that he was the one keeping Rama and Sita apart, Arjuna could feel the ‘pressure’ of the curse’s existence. But at the same time, he was not part of it, like they were. Aside from being aware of it, he did not feel any change in himself. His combat ability, his movements, and his thoughts were all unaffected. 

“That’s good. I’m glad,” Sita murmured, resting a hand on her chest in relief. 

She smiled at him warmly. 

Her overall attitude toward him had become much warmer since their discussion just before Beowulf’s arrival. The difference between her distant politeness and her teasing was noticeable now that he could compare the two. Arjuna was certainly accustomed to the good will of others, but he felt somewhat Taken aback to receive it from Sita even when she was well aware of everything he had done in this Singularity. Joining the Celts, baldly stating his selfish reasons, and then even killing a supposed ally — she couldn’t possibly think of him as a proper hero after all that, but that did not seem to impact her perspective. 

Their standards couldn’t possibly be that different, could they? What kinds of things had she become inured to with Lord Rama? 

Setting these confusing, circular thoughts aside, Arjuna changed topic. 

“From here, we’ll head into the Western United States territory,” he said. He had already decided to pursue Karna more actively, so that was the only logical action. “According to the Celts’ intelligence reports, Karna rarely leaves their new capital, but Denver is a fortress protected by both conventional and magical forces. Assaulting it would cause unnecessary complications, so I will look for a way to draw him out.”

It was, of course, not impossible for Arjuna to just carve a straight path toward Denver. The Western army was composed of only mass-produced mechanized soldiers and two Casters of the modern era. Except for Karna himself, they did not have nearly the power to stop Arjuna. 

However... something about this method did not appeal to him. 

It wasn’t the possibility of being wearing himself out against the masses and not having his full power against Karna — as if such a thing could happen — but that it just seemed too... frenetic. Arjuna was not a mindless beast, to charge in like a Berserker. He would choose an appropriate battlefield for their duel. 

“For now, we’ll see how far into their territory we can travel,” he said. 

Sita nodded slowly. Her expression was thoughtful, and for some reason, Arjuna felt a vague sense of unease. 

“In that case,” she said, “perhaps we should try to blend in a little more. What do you think, Lord Arjuna? If we change clothing, we may be able to pass for refugees fleeing from the conflict.” 

Infiltration... an underhanded tactic. But it was a reasonable one, and since it had already been brought up, there was no reason to refuse it. Arjuna was hardly unfamiliar with hiding his identity. In fact, he could be said to be quite accustomed to it. 

“Clothing...” he muttered, then sighed quietly. It would not be hard to obtain, but thinking the simplest method made him feel a little tired. “I will take care of it.” 

~.~

‘Taking care of it’ implied more effort than Arjuna had to exert, which was fundamentally none. All he needed to do was... exist, and what he needed would surely appear before him. 

Suitable clothing was the same. After another half day’s travel, they came across the remains of a caravan, several wagons left behind after they had been damaged in what must have been an unfortunate encounter with a roving Celtic band. As was their nature, the Celts hadn’t bothered even looting the cargo. 

It was hard to tell whether any of the refugees might have survived. Any bodies left behind had almost certainly already been devoured — by the trio of chimeras that emerged from the shade of the wagons as Sita and Arjuna approached. 

“Another pointless battle...” Arjuna muttered, materializing Gandiva in one hand and reaching down to pull out an arrow with the other. 

With two Servants traveling together, especially Servants of their strength, it was impossible to travel any distance without being beset by monsters, and he had long since lost count of the number of times he had needed to go through the motions of tearing apart chimeras, werejaguars and wyvers. None of them presented a threat, no matter how numerous, so it was simply a matter of tedium. 

“Wait, Lord Arjuna,” Sita spoke up unexpectedly, lightly laying a hand on his arm. Arjuna glanced down at it uncertainly. “Please let me try first.” 

“Try?” Arjuna repeated. 

Until then, he had been the only one to fight, with Sita remaining on the sidelines. She smiled a little sheepishly. 

“At the very least, I should be able to handle this much,” she said. “So please let me try.” 

“...Very well. After you,” Arjuna allowed. Stepping back, he gestured in invitation. 

He was a little curious. The legends he was familiar with never mentioned Sita fighting, but she possessed a weapon — which she had used against him before — and she would naturally have a Noble Phantasm as well. Her basic parameters, including her strength, had also proven higher than he would have expected. 

‘Now then, let’s see how far the Queen of Kosala can go...’ he thought, raising one gloved hand to cover the odd smile that threatened to appear on his face. 

Well, if worst came to worst, he would just step in himself. 

The three chimeras that had been resting in the shadow of the abandoned wagons had already begun moving toward them with the slow stalking motions of born predators. Low growls rumbled from them as they bared their fangs. 

“Oh heavenly gods, I pray to thee — grant me victory...” Sita murmured, closing her eyes for a moment as she summoned her bow. 

He recognized this bow. Arjuna had been aware of it before, but he hadn’t had time to pay close attention and only now could he appreciate this weapon’s nature. This was undeniably Pinaka, the bow of the god Shiva. 

Its legend was the one most closely associated with Sita. 

When Sita was a child, her father Janaka witnessed a peculiar thing. While playing with her sisters, the young Sita was able to lift a ceremonial stand with one hand — and, more importantly, the heirloom from his ancestors that rested upon that stand, the bow Pinaka. 

As a divine weapon that was created to be wielded by the gods, Pinaka could not be lifted, much less strung, by mortals. The unworthy could not even approach it. 

Seeing the proof of his child’s extraordinary nature, Janaka chose to make this bow the test in Sita’s swayamvara, where she would choose her future husband. The task was to lift the bow and string it, requiring a man equal to Sita’s own potential. 

Rama had lifted the bow — but while attempting to string it, he had broken it instead. 

There were many variations in the retellings of the exact events. But it was through Pinaka that Rama and Sita became husband and wife. It could be said to be a weapon that was equally shared between them. The fact that it had been broken didn’t matter. After all, Arjuna had seen it whole once more during his own lifetime, in Lord Shiva’s hands. 

Since she had materialized it directly, there was no need for Sita to string it. Notching an arrow in a single smooth motion, she let it fly. 

The closest chimera, which had pounced toward her at the same time, was sent flying backward by the force of the arrow’s impact. Crashing into the ground, it tumbled head over paws twice before falling still, dying if not already dead. 

Arjuna’s eyebrow twitched slightly. 

Wasn’t the strength behind that a bit high? Did she have a skill similar to Monstrous Strength? 

That couldn’t be. Legends differed on Sita’s origins, but she was doubtlessly a divine figure. 

The battle continued in front of him. The second and third Chimera closed in relentlessly, the monsters too mindless to know fear. Sita shot again, but this time, her target moved erratically at the last moment, and her arrow only buried itself in the chimera’s shoulder, making it stumble but failing to kill. Within the moment it took her to ready another arrow, the third and last monster reached her. 

Sita didn’t panic. Changing her grip on Pinaka, she... swung it at the chimera, hitting its lion head directly between the eyes. The monster yelped pitifully and staggered. 

“—guh!” Arjuna couldn’t help making a horrified sound. His mouth had dropped open in shock, and one hand had instinctively reached out as if to stop her. 

Pinaka was a divine construct, and it wouldn’t be broken just from whacking a monster or two, no matter the angle or strength used.. probably... but still! She was whacking a monster with it! Like a bludgeon! 

Lady Sita! That is Lord Shiva’s bow!!

Unable to hear Arjuna’s internal grievances, Sita grabbed hold of the snake head that tried to strike at her, her gauntlet’s talons digging into its flesh. Digging in her heels, she pulled with all her strength — and dragged the chimera off its feet. This monster had probably never imagined that it would be used like a flail, but it did not suffer for long. Making a graceful, yowling arc through the air, it was thrown directly into the last chimera, which had regained its footing and charged once more. 

Both monsters collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and head. They had only a few moments to struggle weakly against each other before two arrows in quick succession pierced their main heads and they grew still. 

Seeing their bodies already beginning to dissolve, Sita breathed out a low sigh of relief. 

“Haa... The pressure of battle is difficult after all,” she muttered. Turning, she asked, “What do you think, Lord Arjuna? How was that?” 

“H-how was it...” Arjuna echoed, struggling to get his expression under control. “Well. I can tell you are not a warrior.” 

Because a warrior wouldn’t treat their weapon like that. 

“Mm, I suppose so,” Sita agreed with a sheepish smile. 

“It’s good that you can defend yourself, but why did you want to fight all of a sudden?” Arjuna asked. “There is no need for that. I am here. Or... is there someone you want to defeat?” He had thought she had given up on fighting Rama, but perhaps there was some other goal she had decided on. However, he couldn’t imagine what it might be. Fighting him? Fighting the Celts? 

“No, it’s not that,” Sita said. “I just realized... I don’t even know what I can or cannot do. Am I able to fight? If so, how far can I go? I’ve never even tried. I’ve only ever waited and waited...” Shaking her head, she dismissed the topic. “Let’s go see if there’s anything here we can use.” 

“There will be,” Arjuna said with certainty. 

With A++ Luck, that was just how it worked, not to mention his nature as the Hero of the Endowed. 

It didn’t take them long to dig through the overturned belongings in the wagons and find two sets of clothing in the right sizes. Even the colors and styles were reasonably suited to them. Smoothing out the pale western-style jacket he had changed into and tugging at his dark blue ascot, Arjuna sighed to himself. It really was always like this... 

Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes and waited. 

As a Servant, he received basic information about the era he was summoned in from either the Holy Grail or the World itself, so the clothes did not pose a problem despite being far removed from anything he had worn during his life. Being somewhat aware that women’s clothing was more complicated, he didn’t think much of the fact that Sita was taking longer to change — at first. But as the wait dragged on, Arjuna couldn’t help frowning. 

Was it possible something had happened? 

Still, calling out would be impolite, wouldn’t it? It would sound too much like he was rushing her, especially regarding something like this. 

As he was trying to make up his mind, the makeshift curtain across the covered wagon’s opening was finally pushed aside and Sita jumped out, holding up her skirts. 

“My apologies, this corset gave me some trouble,” she said. 

So that’s what it was. Arjuna cleared his throat. “We should decide on a cover story,” he said. “The simplest way to enter Western American territory will be with a group, but we will need to tell them something about ourselves.” 

“A brother and sister!” Sita said immediately, clapping her hands together. “What do you think, Lord Arjuna? I will be the elder sister!”

“Lady Sita… That won’t be believable. I look older than you,” Arjuna pointed out. 

In this manifestation, he had the appearance of a young man, but still certainly an adult — while Sita was a girl still in her adolescence. They also did not have much of a resemblance, so the simpler option would have been to say they were sweethearts or an engaged couple… But that was not possible for obvious reasons. 

“Oh? But I think I make a better older sister,” Sita said. “I’m more accustomed to it, with my sister and with Lakshmana too.” She smiled fondly at the mention of Rama’s younger brother. 

Arjuna wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

What she was used to… didn’t really matter, did it? They weren’t putting on an elaborate infiltration. They just needed to blend in with other refugees and make their way past a few checkpoints. Since even that was something the Celtic warriors created by Medb couldn’t accomplish, no one would be on the lookout for this possibility, so they wouldn’t be closely scrutinized anyway. 

Forget it. In the local language, there was no distinction in the words for older and younger siblings. If they didn’t say it specifically, everyone would just assume Arjuna was older, and if Sita ever mentioned it, he’d play it off as a quirk of his ‘little sister.’ 

Deciding not to argue, he said instead, “We also need to decide where we came from and our history. It should be vague to avoid giving any details that might be contradictory, but solid enough to be convincing.” 

This was the more important point and the one he had meant to bring up from the start. 

“We will still stand out from the locals, so it will be simplest to say we are from India,” he explained what he had been planning out in his head. “I’m not familiar with the details of the locations in this Singularity, or how they were overtaken by the Celtic army, so it would be best to just say we landed in Boston and hadn’t had a chance to settle down before getting swept up in the chaos. As for the reason we traveled to this continent, it can be education.” 

“I see... Lord Arjuna, you’re very good at this,” Sita said, smiling. 

She meant it as a light compliment, but the corner of Arjuna’s mouth twitched unhappily. “Yes, quite…” he said stiffly. There wasn’t anything particularly good about being skilled at this kind of plotting, after all. 

Although he had carefully maintained a neutral expression, Sita seemed to sense something off. Picking her words more carefully, she changed the topic, “But if we’re going to be siblings, it won’t sound natural for me to call you ‘Lord Arjuna,’ right? The people here don’t have that kind of custom. I hope you don’t mind if I just call you by name. And, of course, please call me Sita.” 

“Yes… Sita,” Arjuna agreed, with a rather awkward pause. 

“It seems we’ll need some practice,” Sita said, her pause even more obvious and awkward, “...Arjuna.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

Was this really going to work? 

~.~

**Notes:** And we’re back to hijinks! Let me tell you, it’s about to get Stupider(tm). 

-Arjuna: I could just go and fight Karna, but I don’t want to look  _ desperate, _ you know? 

-I am still deeply unsure what Sita’s bow is called. In regard to the legend, it seems there is some confusion whether the bow Rama broke was Shiva’s or Varuna’s. Sita’s NP is “Haradhanu Janaka”, with Janaka being her father’s name, but I can’t figure out if Hara Dhanu is generic term for bow or specifically Shiva’s bow. We’ll go with Shiva’s bow, since Pinaka is specifically mentioned in Rama’s mats (as one of the weapons he can use through his other NP). It’s a little cute to imagine they both use the same bow. 

-Unlike English, many languages have entirely different words for “younger brother/sister” and “older brother/sister.” We’re all nerds here, so we should know that onii-san and onee-san are specifically older, for example. I’m actually not sure whether, uh, ancient Hindi would have that, but I would expect so. 

-In case anyone is curious, I’ve put together a skeleton outline, and this story will have 7 “arcs” of major pov changes (we just started “arc” 3, for reference). Each one should be about 4 chapters like the previous two, maybe 5, so we’ll probably end up with 30 or so chapters. Events covered will roughly correspond to what happens in the game, though in a different order or combination. There won’t be any new characters or anything like that. 

-(Now watch me totally fail to stick to the outline.) 

-Anyway, the important part is that Sita isn’t walking around with her panties out anymore. 

~.~


	10. Behind Enemy Lines (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 10: Behind Enemy Lines**

Traveling northeast from Deming, around the edges of the land still controlled by the Western United States, they had passed from the dry deserts and mountains into rolling hills, which then gave way to treeless prairies. This was the Great Plains that made up the center of America, still almost entirely untouched by the west-ward expansion. 

It could be considered a terrain convenient to Archers. With no obstructions, they could see for miles and easily spot any approaching threats. Rather than fight, they could skirt around enemies that appeared on the horizon. Finally finding a refugee caravan also proved far easier. 

“We’ll be close enough for them to spot us soon,” Arjuna reported. “Are you ready?” 

“I’m ready, Brother,” Sita agreed, adjusting the rucksack of possessions Arjuna had also gathered from the abandoned wagons to give some additional realism to their story of fleeing from catastrophe. 

After a number of uncomfortable attempts, they had settled on this form of address, which Sita was able to repeat quite smoothly and cheerfully. After some practice, Arjuna had stopped reacting oddly as well. 

The procession they were heading to intercept was a rather ragged and jumbled one. All manner of carts and wagons and even a carriage were mixed together, accompanied by numerous people on foot. There were even some cows bringing up in the rear. Everyone in the caravan was long since covered in dust, but their clothing was equally mismatched under the grime of travel, some obviously once expensive and some uniforms from a number of different occupations. 

Rather than being an evacuation from a single location, this group had slowly gathered together as they fled the invading Celts and monsters. Doubtlessly, they had lost as many as they gained. 

It was perfect, Arjuna decided with cold calculation. Two more strays wouldn’t stand out much in this rabble. 

Through ruthless experience, the refugees that made up the caravan had gained a great deal of vigilance and skill at keeping lookout. It wasn’t too long before one of the few horseback riders who acted as escorts and a vanguard spotted Arjuna and Sita approaching. Seeing only a pair in ordinary clothing, two of the escorts rode toward them, hands on their rifles but not immediately on guard. 

Taking a deep breath, Arjuna raised his arms and began to wave exaggeratedly. “Hello! Over here!” he called out, pretending to only notice them as they approached. 

“Howdy, folks,” one of the riders greeted them once they drew close enough. 

His eyes darted over them quickly, but there was no real reason for him to be suspicious — Celtic warriors were not smart enough to infiltrate, and the Servants in Medb’s army would have no reason to bother. At most, they could perhaps be members of the Rebellion but even they had more straightforward methods, such as stealing uniforms from the army. 

Besides, what did refugees struggling to survive care about the Rebellion, which never harmed or went against civilians? 

The rider’s expression eased slightly, and he gave a subtle nod to his partner. 

“We’re so glad to see you, sirs,” Arjuna said, smiling and making a show of breathing out a sigh of relief. “We got separated from our caravan days ago when there was an attack, and we’ve been running from the monsters since. Please, could you take us with you? Just until the next outpost!” 

Next to him, Sita quickly ducked her head — hiding the slightly strange expression she couldn’t quite stop herself from making. “Please!” she echoed. 

Seeing a young girl like her begging, the two guards softened completely. “Yeah, it’s fine,” one of them said. “Go ahead and join with the others. We’re getting close now. God willing, we’ll make it soon.” 

“Thank you, sir!” Arjuna said quickly. Placing a hand on Sita’s back, he hurried her along as if afraid they would change their minds. 

Naturally, he did not enjoy acting like this, but it was simply a pretense and he didn’t think about it too much — until he noticed Sita shooting him a glance. “Very good,” she repeated with emphasis under her breath. This time, she looked away before she could notice his reaction. She nodded to herself with a determined expression. “I’ll do my best too.” 

The caravan had noticed the two riders drawing away to investigate and, with trepidation, paid close attention for the first signs of danger. Fortunately, it was only two stranglers… Realizing this, they breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

By the time Arjuna and Sita reached the edges of their loose group, a number of people had congregated over to that side to get a better look at them. Although they at least attempted to keep their voices low, Arjuna could make out their curious gossip — commenting on Sita’s bright red hair and his own skin tone, wondering about their origins. Even with a change of clothes and a layer of dust from the road, they didn’t entirely fit in. Someone wondered if they could be connected to the Celts, but they were quickly rebuked for spouting nonsense. No one wanted those kinds of fears adding to the already crushing tension. 

Catching someone’s curious eye, Arjuna put on a sheepish, uncertain smile. 

That would probably be enough. He wasn’t particularly worried about being ostracized. When it came to people, he had always been liked. 

People were really... very foolish. 

As they joined the caravan, someone stepped up to offer them each a flask of water, along with a piece of some hard trail rations. Servants like them didn’t need food or water, but they could hardly decline. The water, at least, Arjuna only pretended to drink before handing it back with thanks and a smile. Perhaps he could slip someone the rations too, later on. 

“It’s alright, have some more,” the caravan woman insisted. “We have that much at least, and we all need to keep our strength up.” 

“That’s right,” a man agreed. His worn clothes were those of a farmer, but there was a rifle resting against his shoulder. He was likely serving as one of the guards in the caravan. “If you need to, take a break on a wagon. Especially the young miss.” 

After a quick mental calculation, Arjuna accepted halfway, remaining on foot himself but helping Sita onto a covered wagon that had seen better days. 

Surreptitiously, he wandered through the caravan for a bit, taking stock of their numbers, supplies and the methods they had developed on the road. There were far too few guards, almost all of them simply any able bodied man — and even some women — who could wield a rifle. A few people carried bows, but those were used for hunting instead. They were not yet low on food, but their other supplies were a haphazard mix of things various people had thought to grab and managed to hold on to, rather than any orderly assortment for potential troubles on the road. 

Aside from the initial greetings, not many spoke to him, all tense and weary, and Arjuna didn’t strike up conversation either. It would be inconvenient to be too memorable, after all. 

However, when he circled back to Sita, he found her deep in a conversation with the pair of elderly ladies and the young nursing mother who shared the wagon with her. 

“—landed in Boston,” Sita was explaining. “After that… we just never had a chance to settle down before…” 

“Oh, you poor thing,” one of the grannies tittered, her wrinkled face sympathetic even as her hands continued darning a piece of battered clothing. 

“I just hope we can make it back home someday,” Sita said. “More than anything, I want to see my husband again.” She paused and then added, as if she couldn’t help herself, “If he was here, he would protect everyone. His strength and courage are unmatched—” 

Arjuna barely resisted the urge to facepalm. 

Sharing their cover story was one thing, but was it really necessary to brag about Rama too? 

Fortunately, the women with her all thought she was just joking when she started talking about defeating demons and reclaiming his kingdom. 

...Compared to that, Arjuna was indeed “very good” at infiltration. 

~.~

“Halt right there! Identify yourselves!”

They had been lucky not to run into any Celts along the way, and after a few more days on the road, the caravan reached what could be considered their destination — a military outpost of the Western American army. Once they were spotted, still a good distance out, a squad of mechanized infantry was quickly dispatched to intercept them. 

The armored soldiers didn’t immediately open fire. That could be considered a good sign. However, the welcome they received was otherwise far from warm. 

Those in the caravan who had started to relax, thinking their troubles were over, quickly tensed again as the mechanized infantry leveled their machine guns at them while snapping out orders in a strange, reverberating voice. Worried murmuring passed between the refugees huddling together with their families and friends. 

Quickly, one of the caravan’s unofficials stepped forward, swallowing heavily as she faced the soldiers’ gleaming gun barrels. 

“Sirs, we aren’t enemies!” she called out, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “We’re just refugees, from Dallas. We travelled here to seek shelter with the Western United States!” 

There was a long, tense silence as the mechanized infantry failed to respond. 

Then, abruptly, the soldiers lowered their guns and stepped back, moving in sync. “Refugee protocol, acknowledged!” they sounded off. “Understood and confirmed. Please wait here for further processing.” 

A single soldier broke off from the group and headed back to the outpost to report, while the others spread out and stood guard. Unsure what this meant for them, the people of the caravan exchanged uneasy looks and murmurs. From among their numbers, Arjuna watched everything with a cool, assessing gaze. 

Although he had been nominally part of the Celtic forces, he had not fought the mechanized infantry directly himself. All of his knowledge came from listening to the reports other Servants gave Medb and a few glimpses of them in the distance over the last few weeks of travel after going rogue. This was his first time seeing them up close. 

He had known that, rather than fully mechanical puppets, they were living humans encased in special armor. Individually, they were roughly on par with Medb’s mindless warriors. Their greatest advantage was their coordination, alongside their numbers. 

That part... made him a little curious. 

Thinking logically, the infantry numbers were too large for all of them to be trained warriors. To begin with, a newly-created country like America didn’t have a robust military, and most of it had been completely wiped out when Medb and Cu Chulainn first began their invasion. For Edison to pull together a fighting force over and over again meant he was putting to use any civilian who could operate the armor. 

But if that was the case, how could they have the training necessary to operate in coordination on the battlefield? Or even the mental fortitude to throw themselves into the jaws of death without flinching? 

Looking at their identical, rigid movements... 

Was it some kind of brainwashing? 

Medb didn’t know much about Edison, but they were aware that there was a Caster among his forces. She had been disparaged by the Celts as a modern mage, far inferior to those who had lived in the Age of the Gods, but that didn’t mean she lacked means of her own. 

Power from the armor, knowledge from brainwashing — the human soldiers became just raw materials to create a ‘mechanized infantry.’ 

Perhaps even their will to fight was artificial. 

...How disgusting. To think that war could be made even more empty and meaningless. 

The mechanized soldier who had departed returned in short order, accompanying a mounted officer — this one dressed only in a cloth uniform. As he approached, the troops standing guard saluted in unison. 

“Industry and domination!” they clamored. 

“Industry and domination!” the officer responded. “Presi-king Edison is the greatest CEO!”

The people of the caravan were too tense and intimidated to say react, but Arjuna couldn’t stop his eyebrow from twitching in annoyance. It seemed Karna’s taste in lieges hadn’t improved. If you want to be a king, be a king. If you want to be a president, be a president. If you want to be a CEO, be a CEO. But don’t call yourself all three at once! 

Did the people of this era even know what a CEO was? 

The officer’s gaze swept over the caravan dispassionately, lacking both wariness and interest. As expected, the Western army did not expect infiltration and did not have any methods of checking for it. They had no reason to guard themselves in that regard — the Celtic Servants certainly wouldn’t bother with it. 

“Refugee protocol confirmed,” the officer said. “Process them.”

“Wait!” the caravan spokeswoman called out as he began to turn his horse around. She flinched as the mechanized infantry turned toward her, but they had not raised their guns again and she did not back down. “Officer, please! What’s going to happen to us?” 

The mounted officer blinked down at her, then sighed and ran a hand over his face. There was a thick growth of stubble across his chin and jaw, and bags under his eyes. Given his position, he might have been one of the few survivors of the original United States military, or perhaps he had been rapidly trained up due to his talents. But out here on what could be considered the front line, there was no doubt he had witnessed far too much that was beyond the realm of modern humans. There was no telling how many pathetic, worn refugees he had seen pass through and ask the same questions. 

Even so, he managed to muster up enough sympathy to explain in a more patient tone, “You will all be registered and given citizenship. The Western United States accepts everyone, regardless of race, religion, or social status. But to fight back against those demonic invaders, everyone must contribute to the utmost of their capacity. So all of you will be processed and sent wherever more workers are needed. It is the only way our nation can survive.” 

The spokeswoman swallowed heavily but didn’t dare to protest. “We, we understand,” she said. “But can families remain together? We’ve all lost so many people, if we can at least keep our remaining relatives close...” 

“That will be up to the Human Resources Division,” the officer said. 

He didn’t wait for any further questions. Turning his horse, he departed back toward the outpost, the mechanized infantry closing the ranks behind him. 

~.~ 

**Notes:**

-Sita, any time she meets someone: But did you know, I have a husband

-She and Rama are two halves of the same idiot, is what I’m saying. 

-This is basically the biggest block of “new content,” involving a short glance at Edison’s not exactly great policies, which were mentioned in the game but not really explored. 

~.~


	11. The Sound of Music (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 11: The Sound of Music**

The city they were eventually sent to, accompanied by a mechanized squad, was Kearney. Located east of the capital stronghold Denver, it was a major manufacturing center of Western America. 

According to Proper History, Kearney and Denver as well should not have existed yet in this era, being founded only in the 19th century. The entire area that included both their states, Nebraska and Colorado, only became part of the United States after the Louisiana Purchase in 1803. However, Edison had directed the cities to be built from scratch when he led the remains of the American forces to retreat westward. 

Denver was a fortress protected by both conventional and magical means. Kearney, on the other hand, was a sprawling industrial city. 

Rather than walls, what towered over the city were countless smokestacks, columns of white and gray smoke rising up to cloud the sky in a perpetual gloom of smog. However, unlike in real cities of the Industrial Revolution Era, the streets were clean and uncluttered, and there was no lingering scent of sewage or trash. Carts and wagons moved along orderly routes, bringing people and materials around the many factories and processing sites. Every building bustled with activity. 

This included the “processing” office the refugees were led to. They had been passed between several squads of mechanized infantry along the way until they finally arrived in Kearney, where they were ordered to pack their belongings, and anything that could not be carried was itemized, to be converted into currency reimbursements. 

From here, they would provide their names and information, and be entered into the citizenship registry. After that, they would be assigned a place of work and a residence from among the open spots. 

“It’s time to go,” Arjuna said quietly to Sita. “There’s no need for us to be registered, so we should leave now.” 

Glancing around, Sita nodded in understanding. At the moment, everyone in the caravan was busy with sorting their belongings and worrying about whether they would be able to remain with their families, while the guards were keeping a distance so as to avoid getting caught up in the chaos. It was easy to lose track of a refugee or two, making this the best chance to slip away. 

It was easy even without Presence Concealment or the ability to shift to spirit form. One swift, subtle movement faster than a human could follow, and they were already out of sight. Setting Sita back on her feet, Arjuna calmly led the way out of the processing area and the entire office building. 

Rather than linger in the streets, where they might be noticed as doing something irregular, they quickly made their way up onto a rooftop and took another look across the bustling city. 

The smog was thicker there, and Sita had to momentarily cover her nose and mouth before adjusting. 

“What will you do from here?” she asked. 

“Something to draw Edison’s attention,” Arjuna said, “and make him send Karna to settle things. This place is important to the Western army’s war efforts, so perhaps taking out a few factories will rouse them to action.” 

Since he had not been entirely sure of the situation past the frontline or how far they would be able to get, he hadn’t made any concrete plans. But given Kearney’s location and importance, there was no need to try and go further. Here was a fine place to stir up a commotion. 

Even with the keen eyes of an Archer, it was hard to see all the way across the city. Narrowing his eyes against the blanket of smog, Arjuna held out his arm as if holding a bow and mentally estimated his targets. 

The largest centers of activity were... there, there, and there. As long as he didn’t hold back, it wouldn’t take more than a couple arrows for each to destroy them almost completely. 

After that, should he run immediately, or stay to reveal his identity as the attacker? 

Was Karna more likely to appear if he knew the one he’d face was Arjuna, or less? 

...Arjuna couldn’t answer that. Pondering deeply, he held his chin and furrowed his brows in thought. 

If the city was attacked, the scene would quickly turn very chaotic. Who would he even announce himself to? The mechanized infantry, those brainwashed tin cans, would probably just open fire on him directly without listening to a thing he said. And they would take the front line, rather than any of the far less disposable officers. The civilians were even less usable, since there was no guarantee they would remember or convey his message to anyone in power. It had been much simpler with Lord Rama... 

Rama... On the subject of that spectacle, Arjuna needed to decide what he’d say ahead of time, instead of just spouting off some nonsense on the spot. It would be easier, since his aims were clear and direct, but it would still be better to be precise. 

A direct threat, perhaps — “face me, or I will attack again in three days,” or something like that. 

Was three days enough time for a messenger to travel to Denver and for Karna to travel back? Or did they have some kind of distance communication method? There wasn’t supposed to be one present in this era originally, but Edison could have introduced something. Maybe every five days would be better? 

No, he wanted to give the Western American leadership a sense of urgency, so... 

Turning and about to begin pacing, Arjuna saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him jolt. Suddenly, he remembered that... he wasn’t in Kearney alone. 

Sita had been looking at him all along with a neutral, patient expression. She was a person accustomed to waiting, so she hadn’t rushed him or prompted him to share his thoughts. Folding her hands, she had simply sat next to one of the chimneys on the building’s roof and watched. 

...He hadn’t made a weird face, right? 

Turning away quickly, Arjuna nervously ran a hand over his face. It didn’t feel like it had twisted up into the ominous, evil expression he couldn’t stand revealing, but...

In any case, he couldn’t show Lady Sita a scene of attacking a defenseless city. The wife of the righteous Lord Rama wouldn’t be able to just watch silently then, and he had no desire to fight her. 

Arjuna sighed to himself. 

“First, we’ll scout out the most prominent locations. Then, sabotage them after the workday ends,” he said. 

It was only a question of methods. He had thought he was long past trying to hide his nature and his means, but it couldn’t be helped. Well, he supposed it didn’t really matter. The end result would be the same, after all. 

~.~

In order to lessen the civilian casualties, attacking after work hours was the most logical step. As long as they interrupted enough of the production, it would draw the attention of Edison and, by extension, Karna. Because even in this war of legends, logistics still determined life or death — for the Western army, at least. 

The Celtic forces consisted exclusively of Servants, monsters and Medb’s magically-created troops. They did not experience hunger or thirst, and all they needed was magical energy. For that, not only was the Holy Grail in Medb’s possession, but the air itself was saturated enough to render any concerns about maintaining their continued existence irrelevant. The Celts could become exhausted, but they would not stop until they were killed. And if they were killed, Medb would summon and create more of them. 

Rather than an army, they were more like a ‘plague.’ 

By comparison, Edison’s forces were still human. They needed food, water, shelter, weapons, clothing and armor, and countless other things. Each of those things had to be created from numerous resources coming together in the right places, and all of it needed to be transported and tracked. The flow of goods could not be allowed to stop for any of those things. Or else the entire nation could come crumbling down. 

Arjuna was familiar with that aspect of warfare. For all that the great heroes and their Astras were what went down in history, there had been an army behind him as well. 

Although, he could admit if only privately that the scale of this American myth war was impressive even to him. 

To keep the era from collapsing, to build entire cities, to keep even some survivors alive and fed, all while at least slowing the advance of the Celts, for this many months, Edison had at least some measure of skill as a leader. 

He certainly had skill as an inventor and innovator. As electric lights — technology far ahead of the era — began to flicker on across the city in the late afternoon gloom, Arjuna first had a feeling that he might have overlooked something. 

Back in his day, war was supposed to stop at sundown, and by necessity, most work did the same as well. It was simply not feasible to continue most activities by torchlight, so there were very few tasks that would benefit from rotating shifts, much less shifts around the clock. 

It just hadn’t occurred to him that modern factories could fall under that. 

As the night grew late and work continued apace, illuminated by the merciless bright electric lamps, Sita and Arjuna exchanged a look. It had gotten cold and windy on the roof where they waited. The entire city of Kearney glimmered with lights as its great machinery continued to churn away. Even as the moon climbed higher and higher behind the clouds of smog, even as midnight came and went. 

“Does it seem like...” Sita said finally, because someone had to, “maybe they’re not planning to stop at all?” 

Arjuna turned to look at her. “That’s not possible,” he said. “They’re humans. They’ll need to rest eventually.” 

This was only logical and obvious. It had to be true. 

And yet... 

‘Are they going to rest or not?!’ 

Even after so many hours, the cacophony of the factory equipment had not quieted at all. Sita had long since given up, tucking herself into a corner and dozing off. Arjuna did not follow suit. Crossing his arms, he glared down at the factory fixedly without blinking. As a Servant, he didn’t need rest, and as an archer, he had stacked out his targets for far longer. 

In the end, he would find their weakness — and make his move. 

That said, it was very dull. These were just ordinary people, after all, who didn’t even realize anyone might have reason to spy on them. There was no sense of tension, and no guards aside from a rare patrol in the streets. Even Arjuna couldn’t help letting his mind drift a little, bored and annoyed. 

He jolted slightly as the steady sounds from within the factory suddenly broke rhythm. 

‘Is this it?’ 

Through the large windows that remained open to let out the heat, he could see the workers along the production line pausing and moving toward something. He could only faintly make out their voices, worried and curious. It... didn’t seem to be a regular dismissal. So what was it? 

Moving silently and with surprising stealth, Arjuna crept along the perimeter of the factory building, from window to window, in hopes of finding a better angle. Something had doubtlessly happened, but what? 

Finally, a huddle of people came into sight. What must have been the foreman and shift supervisors were already there, trying to disperse the gathered crowd, but several workers had turned to yell at them while gesturing furiously. Atmosphere was tense and confrontational, making it clear that something had gone wrong. 

Outside in the street, a small wagon roughly painted white rushed up to the factory and drew to a sharp stop. Even before it had fully stopped moving, an older man with a large bag burst out and hurried inside, followed by an assistant carrying what looked like two poles. Arjuna had seen several of these wagons passing by, always in a rush, and he studied it a little more closely out of interest. 

Judging by the white paint and the red cross on the side… this was probably a made-do ambulance system set up by Edison. 

“Mm… What’s going on?” Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Sita crouched next to him. 

“It seems there was an accident,” Arjuna judged. 

At the doctor’s approach, the crowd quickly parted to let him through, and they could finally see the center of the commotion. A man lay collapsed on the floor near one of the workstations. His breathing was shallow, Arjuna saw before the doctor kneeled next to him, blocking the view from the windows, and he looked gaunt and exhausted. 

In fact... everyone did, Arjuna realized, narrowing his eyes. 

He hadn’t paid the people much mind previously, having no interest in them, but scanning their scared, furious faces now, he could see that none of them looked well. If anything, they looked even worse off than the refugees in the caravan had. 

The doctor reached a diagnosis quickly. However, when he began to give instructions to his assistant, one of the supervisors stepped forward to object. It was difficult even for a Servant to make out their words, but Arjuna understood the main point — the doctor wanted to take the collapsed worker away, whether home or to a hospital, but the supervisor disagreed. 

What was the point of that? What good could that worker do by remaining? Arjuna wondered, thinking of the glimpses he’d seen of the prone man’s pallid, slack face. Was Western America’s situation so precarious that they had to squeeze out every possible drop of use from the citizens? 

Given the nature of their enemies, perhaps that was indeed the case. 

In the end, the doctor had to give way. With a bitter, defeated expression, he directed his assistant to move the man away from the workstations and machinery. From his bag, he pulled out a syringe and, rolling up the man’s sleeve, administered it with careful movements. Meanwhile, the shift supervisors had begun to disperse the other workers, herding them back to their stations. 

The doctor still looked like he wanted to protest further, but he didn’t get the chance to. The driver who had been left behind in the ambulance wagon suddenly rushed over as well, gesturing toward the doctor and the assistant. All three hurried out, and the ambulance raced away, the same way it had come. Most likely, another medical emergency had been reported over the crude radio system Edison had put together. 

The fact that time had been put into setting up these extensive measures, despite the shortage of manpower and time the barely surviving country faced, meant that they were necessary and put to use often. The situation of the United Western States was indeed...

It wasn’t too much later when the man who had collapsed regained consciousness — it must have been whatever drugs he had been given. Immediately, he was urged back onto his feet and toward what must have been his workstation. 

“Oh,” Sita said quietly, “I see.” 

Arjuna glanced at her in surprise. He had almost forgotten that she was there as well, since she had been silent for so long. Her expression was neutral, but there was a coldness in it that he wasn’t sure he had ever seen before. 

“I wondered before why Lord Rama would not side with the original nation of this era,” she went on, “but I understand now. It is because they are not righteous either.” 

‘There is no righteousness in war to begin with,’ Arjuna thought. Though perhaps it was different when the enemies were human-eating demons. If so... Rama had been fortunate. 

Sita’s expression had turned strange as she looked at him, and Arjuna realized belatedly that he had spoken aloud. But before he could figure how to react or what to say, Sita nodded obediently. “Perhaps that is the case. I am too inexperienced and spoke too rashly,” she said. “But I believe that there are still things that are  _ wrong _ even so. _ ”  _

There was no need for her to add — this was one of those things. 

Karna’s choice of liege was terrible as always. But it wasn’t as if Arjuna had done better. Then did that mean the third side that Rama had chosen... was a righteous one? The girl with the shield and the boy who was probably a Master, were they also heroes of a pure legend, like Rama had been? 

Arjuna didn’t comment further. There wasn’t anything he could say. 

~.~ 

After some further observation, they confirmed that there were two 12 hour shifts, creating a continuous workday. Arjuna felt this couldn’t be maintained as standard procedure. If not the people, the machinery at least needed time for cooling and maintenance at times, right? 

“I don’t think your logic is wrong, but...” Sita said diffidently. Her smile was a little wry as she didn’t continue her thought. 

But no matter how they looked at it, that logic didn’t seem to apply. 

Other factories and facilities they observed had similar schedules. People and machines moved with the same relentless, unceasing regularity, never stopping or resting. This city never slept, but there was none of the energy or vanity that normally accompanied such a title. That was not the last time they saw someone collapse while working, or be pushed right back to work as soon as they regained consciousness. Ambulances often passed by in the streets. 

Sita’s expression had been cold at first, poorly hiding her righteous fury, but her anger was overtaken by concern more and more as time went on. After all, she was a caring woman, even toward these people who had no connection at all to her kingdom or her loved ones. Seeing their suffering was painful to her, and simply watching went against her nature, just like her husband. 

That was the correct reaction for a great hero. But since Arjuna had already decided to throw away that facade for the purpose of achieving his goal, there was no need for him to act as if he felt the same. 

Yes. Even if it was unjust, it had nothing to do with him. 

More importantly, if the work never stopped and the buildings were never empty, sabotaging or destroying them without casualties would be... difficult. 

‘We could start a fire,’ Arjuna decided finally. 

Unlike his lacking views of humane working conditions, Edison appeared to have a good understanding of fire safety. It was probably a necessity, since fires naturally became more common in large cities and factories — he and Sita had already seen an evacuation in action when a machine in one of the facilities caught fire. 

A firefighting crew had arrived in short order to douse the flames, but as long as the building was evacuated, Arjuna could destroy it in a sufficiently thorough and obvious way. 

The problem was starting the fire. Something that could spread fairly quickly, with a lot of smoke, but preferably not strong enough to actually endanger the workers, or else that would defeat the entire point. For buildings of his own time period, Arjuna would have been easily able to come up with precise measures to this end. But regarding this era that was halfway through a strange hybrid industrialization brought about by Edison… 

He’d snuck in to look at some of the machinery. None of it was familiar, even with the knowledge from the summoning. 

Arjuna had no confidence — in particular in Edison’s capabilities or sensibilities — that something wouldn’t quite literally blow up in his face. 

“Lord Arjuna,” Sita called out, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

She had also placed a hand of his arm, and Arjuna momentarily froze, staring down at it blankly. Catching himself, he smoothed out his expression. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed that... or any sign of the internal cursing he had been directing at Edison prior to it. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“There’s something happening,” Sita said. “Look over there, that big square. It looks like that area was blocked off, but some people are going in and out.” 

As Archers, they naturally gravitated toward higher ground that offered a better view, so Sita and Arjuna had temporarily treated to the top of a water tower near the center of Kearney. Even from there, it was difficult to see the edges of the city through the smog, but Sita had correctly noticed something taking place at the open area not too far from their location. 

Most of Kearney had a rather contradictory nature — laid out in precise grid pattern streets that spoke of Edison’s nature as an engineer, but with different sections at angles with each other, as if those precise grids had been created independently, rather than as one whole. There was also no sense of aesthetics or unifying design, aside from the same blocky utility that lacked any character. It was a city, but it was also barely more than a temporary outpost, created quickly and in the moment, without thought beyond the immediate future. 

There were only a few exceptions. 

A number of churches scattered across the city. Although they were still extremely plain, their whitewashed facades at least spoke of some care taken in the construction. 

A large red, white and blue flag swaying in the slack breeze on a tall pole, regularly replaced before its colors could dull. 

And a wide open square in front of the government office. 

Although it was just an empty area, it was easy to guess that the square was meant for large assemblies. The ground had been paved, and a metal statue of a lion-headed man stood at one end, in mid-roar. The square had been blocked off to normal traffic previously, but as Sita had said, an unexpected flurry of activity was taking place there now. 

Mostly, more flags were being put up, all along the perimeter and the streets leading to the square, but boxes of some equipment were also being quickly unpacked. 

“A gathering,” Arjuna guessed. “Perhaps an announcement. Or a state visit?” 

At the very least, it had to be something important enough for the city to pull people from the relentless production pipeline to work on setting this up instead. 

“Ah!” Sita exclaimed happily, her whole face lighting up as she clapped her fist into the opposite palm. “Then we could use that chance to strike—! I’m getting the hang of this!” 

She looked very excited about that. 

“...Yes,” Arjuna agreed. 

Yes, that would be their chance, not that she was getting the hang of infiltration and sabotage. 

Hopefully. 

Those were not skills Lady Sita needed to have. 

Preparations for the unknown event were carried out at America’s usual frenetic, haphazard pace, and by the time Arjuna and Sita made their way over, the entire square was covered in red, white and blue. It was still unclear what all the ruckus was for, but Arjuna could tentatively identify the equipment that had been hastily set up in front of the government building at the end of the square as mostly speakers and lights. 

Soon, the barricades around the square were opened, and citizens began to arrive — to be herded in, in groups that Arjuna could estimate had to do with their work assignments. It seemed they had been brought over after their shift ended, and by their confused murmuring and uneasy exchanged looks, they were no clearer on what was happening. 

Their uncertainty only grew when a squadron of mechanized infantry filed in, lining up behind the lionman statue and standing at parade rest. 

Although Kearney bustled with activity, it was in fact quite far in size from a modern metropolis, and it wasn’t long before at least a quarter of the population was gathered. Perhaps it was closer to a half — everyone who was not currently working. Then, the other half would experience the same thing after their shift ended... 

If it was like that, this event was no benefit to Arjuna’s plans of sabotage. But... there was another idea slowly forming. 

After all, it wasn’t like his goal was to destroy the city’s production capacity. That was just an intermediary step. 

Disrupting a big showy scene — that would work just as well. 

Without noticing, he let a smirk spread over his lips as he stroked his chin and plotted. It looked like he was enjoying himself, Sita thought, glancing at him. Smiling, she didn’t say anything. 

The speakers around the square crackled for a moment, then began to play strident, somewhat static-y music. In response, the babble of the crowd quickly died down, leaving only a mass of people waiting with some trepidation for whatever was to come. 

“My good ladies and gentlemen! My dear citizens!” a loud voice boomed from the speakers, and especially from the ones set around the lionman statue. “Industry and domination! I am Thomas Alva Edison, your presi-king!”

So this was Edison. 

Arjuna had never even seen a picture of him, and he could only infer his nature from his policies and actions as they spread like ripples across the Singularity. Since Edison was a Heroic Spirit of the modern age, who had attained glory for his inventions, Arjuna had somewhat pictured him as being physically unimpressive — perhaps a weedy scholarly type, or a squat, stocky man used to luxury and comfort. The booming, boisterous voice was unexpected. 

What was he like in person, to sound like that? 

...No good. 

The image of the lion-headed statue, with its overly buff body and the flag draped over its shoulders and lap, was just too strong. All he could think of was the lion head roaring, ‘I am the presi-king!!’ 

Closing his eyes and covering his face with one hand, Arjuna tried to banish the cursed vision. 

It didn’t work. 

“Industry and domination! Presi-king Edison is the greatest CEO!” the mechanized infantry saluted in perfect sync. 

“My fellow Americans, I speak to you today to give thanks and congratulations! Through your tireless efforts on our mass-production lines, the threat of the Celts, those invaders, has been kept at bay,” the announcement continued. It was hard to tell whether it was a live broadcast or a pre-recording. “This is the strength of our national unity and shared national service! 

“But of course, one cannot have labor without recreation! In our America, we play three times as hard, work three times as hard, and win three times as hard! And today — we play!” 

...There was a row of explosions behind the statue, along the government hall’s facade. 

Rather than anything destructive, they let off plumes of colored smoke — which Arjuna noted with some embarrassment only after he nearly materialized Gandiva on reflex. The people in the square had also started in surprise and instinctive fear, but they didn’t have time to panic. 

“Today, we PLAY!” another voice, youthful and female, echoed Edison’s exclamation. “Welcome, everybody! To the biggest hit in the Servant world! Báthory Erzsébet’s sold-out show!”

A girl jumped out from the colored smoke, gesturing energetically with her mic stand — and her tail. 

Her voice was clear and high, making her heard even over the completely out of place pop music that was booming out of the speakers. The excessive ruffles of her pink dress bounced as she spun around and made a V sign, winking. Magical energy was swirling around her, and it coalesced into the rising spires of a European castle. 

“Oh! So this is an ‘idol’ then?” Sita noted with interest. 

More importantly, this was a Servant. 

Báthory Erzsébet — Elisabeth Bathory. And that was doubtlessly her Prison Castle Čachtice. 

She had materialized as a girl a few years younger than Sita’s current form and possessed the features of a dragonblood for some reason. However, that would only add her strength. To think Edison had someone like this in his forces... Mebd hadn’t known that. Arjuna was also fairly certain that Bathory hadn’t been in the city before. Why had she been sent? Was Edison aware of their presence? 

“The beat of love is on a dragon Scale~!”

Why was she putting on a concert? 

A bad concert, at that? 

It was really bad. The singing was simply atrocious, to the point of draining stamina and paralyzing. But the footwork was simply intolerable. Was she supposed to be dancing or imitating a rubber ball? And her spinning was completely lacking in any balance or elegance. How could a Servant still have such poor coordination? 

Arjuna, who had once acted as a dancing instructor, strung together a list of criticisms in his heart. 

Covering her ears, Sita watched the performance with a bland smile. 

...More importantly, this was a Servant. 

He had gotten somewhat distracted by her awful performance, but neither her singing nor her dancing skills mattered. What mattered that this girl, Elisabeth, had to be a rare strategic asset for the Western States army. The lack of Servants in their ranks had been a weakness the Celts continually exploited, and every single one had to count. 

Compared to some factories, wasn’t a far better target right in front of him? 

Fortunately, no one could hear the unsettling way he laughed to himself. 

~.~

**Notes:** Clearly, this group needed more collective stupid. 

-Because of ~butterfly effect~ Liz hasn’t been recruited by the Rebellion and was instead recruited by Edison and Helena. Nero is the same, when she appears. Unfortunately, I don’t currently have a plan for Li Shuwen. If I end up not coming up with anything later, please assume that he  _ is _ in America, but no one runs across him, so he just spends the entire singularity wandering around and picking fights off-screen. 

-I actually really wonder about whether or not Rogue Servants can turn to spirit form. Billy specifically does it in LB1, but there is no mention of it in part 1, iirc, even when there are situations where it’d make a lot of sense to do so (eg when Euryale is getting chased around in Okeanos). For the purposes of this fic, we’re going to say it’s basically not possible for them. 

-Worryingly, I'm still writing the next chapter. I hope I can stay ahead, haha...

~.~


	12. Best Laid Plans (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 12: Best Laid Plans**

“—proclaimed himself to be Arjuna, before escaping with Miss Bathory held hostage. Following protocol for engaging unaffiliated Servants, our forces did not pursue. ...End report.”

Snapping the paper file in her hand shut, Helena Blavatsky closed her eyes to stop herself from shooting Karna some kind of ill-advised look. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of look it would be, but it would certainly not be suitable to a professional work environment. 

_ “That scoundrel!!” _ Edison roared, as his state of mute shock finally receded. “Taking a young lady hostage? Miscreate! Villain! Karna, Madame Blavatsky! We must rescue Lady Bathory at ooooonce!” 

He trailed off into another full-throated roar. 

Helena sighed. 

Elisabeth Bathory had been one of the very few Rogue Servants their United Western States had been able to recruit to their side. With Nightingale’s departure and Chaldea’s refusal to cooperate, losing Elisabeth would be a major blow — even if she had only agreed to join as an idol singer and not as a combatant. 

“Yes,” Karna agreed, simply and shortly. “I will go.” 

Helena sighed again. 

“Now, hold on,” she said, quickly holding up one hand. “Let’s not rush into anything. We need to consider the situation carefully. I understand — if this person is really that Arjuna, then his actions are most likely a challenge to you, Karna. Right?” 

“That’s right,” Karna nodded. Unexpectedly, a faint frown passed over his usually expressionless face. “I will gladly face him. It seems it is fate for the two of us to do battle.” 

“Right. But we don’t know he’s actually that Arjuna,” Helena said.    
  


That was enough to make both Karna and Edison look at her with full attention, pulled out of their respective trains of thought. She waved the file in her hand. 

“This is just a written report. We don’t even have a visual to compare it to, and even if we did, there are plenty of Servants with skills or Noble Phantasms that can let them impersonate someone else. It could be a challenge to Karna, but it could also be a diversion to draw him out and weaken Denver’s defenses. We can’t make a decision rashly.” 

“Hm, you make a good point as always, Madame,” Edison said, stroking his chin. His lion eyes squinted shut in a kindly smile. “I was too impassioned, forgive me. First off... Karna, what do you think? Does this seem like the real Arjuna to you?” 

Karna frowned again. As the silence stretched on, Helena’s eyebrows rose minutely in surprise. She knew, of course, that ‘Arjuna’ would be a complicated subject for him, but she had become somewhat accustomed to Karna’s extremely straightforward and direct manner. She hadn’t expected him to ever hesitate. 

Of course, it made sense. Everyone would have a weak point. It was only natural. 

“This kind of method... I can’t say it is worthy of him,” Karna said finally. “But I can’t say it is something he would not do either.” 

He seemed dissatisfied with this ambiguous answer, but Helena nodded in agreement. Given how their battles had ended in myth, Arjuna was certainly someone capable of unworthy methods, if necessary. 

“But if we consider who might wish to impersonate him, it could be the Celts or the Rebellion,” Helena said. “The Rebellion seems a likelier option... We don’t know the details of their forces or their powers, and these kinds of complex tactics seem more up their alley, compared to the Celts.” 

Why would the Celts need to bother with traps, when they had the Holy Grail and an inexhaustible army? They only needed to keep fighting as they had been. 

“Hrm, hrm... indeed. We must investigate thoroughly,” Edison said. “However, Blavatsky, there is an issue with that. The mechanized infantry does not have the capabilities for investigation, and sending an ordinary human officer would be simply too dangerous. In the end, we don’t have much choice.” 

Helena let herself smile — smirk, really. “Yes, we do,” she said. 

“No, we don’t,” Edison insisted, sounding a touch petulant. “There’s only me and you and Karna, and all of us needed here.” 

“Yes, we do,” Helena repeated. “There’s her.” 

“Oh! Her!” Edison exclaimed in understanding. “But... she didn’t agree to become part of our combat forces. Like Miss Bathory, she only agreed to entertain the workers and the troops. If we try to order her into action, won’t she refuse?” He shook his head. “Those king types are quite a hassle.” 

Helena’s expression turned downright smug. “If we order her, yes. But she and Bathory said they’re ‘rivals,’ and she only joined when she heard that Bathory had. My guess is that they’re even friends and just don’t want to admit it. If we let her know that Bathory has been abducted... She’ll make a move all on her own. We wouldn’t be able to stop her even if we wanted to.” 

There was a moment of silence as the two men considered her words. Then, Edison’s laughter echoed again in the throne room. 

“Ohoho! Indeed! The schemes of a lady must not be underestimated!” he declared. 

“Then I’ll leave contacting her to you,” Helena said. It would go better if he did it. Even when he was attempting subterfuge, Edison’s bombastic manner would be more believable than her own attempts. He was harder to suspect, to begin with. 

Their meeting adjourned at that point. As she headed out of the throne room, Helena was not surprised to find Karna trailing after her. She had expected something like that and intentionally headed up atop the walls where they had spoken before. 

It was windy up there again. Materializing her jacket, Helena bundled it tightly around herself and pulled herself up onto the parapet. Legs swinging lightly, she faced Karna. 

“If she’s defeated too, I’ll be the one to go next,” she said bluntly. 

“Why?” Karna replied immediately and just as bluntly. 

Although she was clear on her reasons, Helena didn’t reply. She asked instead, “You want to go, right? But I’m curious — why is it that you want to face him so much? I’ve read the Mahabharata, of course, so I know the story, but I want to know your reasons too. Is it because you feel a sense of responsibility? Or for revenge? Or…” 

Karna shook his head. Although she could not be sure, she thought there was a faint irritation in his usually placid demeanor, or at least some kind of agitation. “It’s none of those. I have never hated him. It is…” 

Pulling one leg up to her chest, Helena waited patiently while he searched for the right words. She felt a little bad. There was, after all, no good reason for her to pry like this. The reason wasn’t even a shallow one like simple curiosity. 

She was looking for an angle, the best way to convince him. 

The schemes of women were not to be underestimated indeed. 

“It is my selfishness,” Karna concluded finally. 

Helena gave him a long look. Although this kind of silent exchange was usually something Karna would have an undefeatable upper hand in, this time he seemed to fidget slightly, as if he understood her meaning and her vague irritation. 

“That is insufficient,” he guessed. 

“Yes,” Helena confirmed. 

“I’ve been told in the past that I need to use more words…” Karna muttered to himself. Taking another moment, he gathered his thoughts. “I… have always strived to live without sullying my father’s name. To accept everyone and to repay all that I receive. Even if I have not always succeeded, I lived my life in that manner. ...But there was one thing. There was a person that had always stirred up my heart.”

“And that was Arjuna,” Helena said. 

“That is Arjuna,” Karna confirmed. “In life, I was never certain regarding the nature of the emotion I felt toward him. And now, it is all long past. However... the wish to face him in battle still remains. It is on the battlefield that I have felt the most joy, and in battle that I show my ‘bared self’. The duel we could not complete then — it is my selfish desire.” 

He smiled, absorbed in his own thoughts — thankfully giving Helena enough time to smooth out her expression. 

As a modern mage who lived long after the age of heroes and great warriors, she couldn’t claim to understand the thirst for battle or the exaltation that came from it. It felt... simultaneously noble and barbaric, a way of life she couldn’t help admiring but only from afar. 

More importantly, he answered so honestly that she felt a vague guilt creep up in her heart. 

“If you want to go, we obviously can’t stop you. And it’s not our place to do so, in any case.” Helena smiled wryly. “It’s the end of the world. If you don’t act now, you might never have another chance.” 

“No,” Karna refused immediately and without hesitation. That bluntness was more like his usual self, making Helena smile reflexively. “Blindly following one’s desires will not lead to a fulfilling life. Emotion and principle must be balanced together. I chose to lend you and Edison my support, and I will see it through to the end. If you believe you should be the one to go first, there must be a reason.” 

Helena let out a heavy sigh. She just couldn’t deal with someone like this... 

“There are some reasons,” she said. “But mostly... I think Chaldea and the Rebellion will make their move soon. We know they confronted Cu Chulainn, but it’s easy to tell the battle didn’t go in their favor. The Celts are just too strong for them to take down, so their only option will be to turn toward us.”

She didn’t think they would aim to completely crush the United Western States, but rather to gain at least some additional power to face the Celts. However, even if their goal was negotiation, they would still need to use force just to get Edison to listen. And once things went in that direction...

“If I’m the one who stays, I won’t be able to keep things from going out of control,” Helena admitted. 

But if Karna was the one to remain behind, it would be a different story. 

His sheer power was something few other Servants could match. Even in his current state, Edison was not one of them, and Helena doubted that Chaldea and the Rebellion had anyone on that level either. Perhaps they would be able to temporarily push Karna back — in part because he was unlikely to use his devastating Noble Phantasms — but they would not be able to defeat him. 

And Karna...

Even if she didn’t always understand or agree, Helena knew he had his own principles. If it was him, he could at least prevent the worst possible outcome. 

“...Understood,” Karna said. “Leave it to me.” 

“I’ll be counting on you. And…” Hesitating, she finally added, “It’s not just about Chaldea and the Rebellion. Don’t let Edison do anything crazy, okay?” 

She didn’t mean his usual craziness — inventions that were more ridiculous than practical, bombastic presentation that crossed into far too much showiness, some visions that were frankly straight up ludicrous and had no connection at all to reality. She meant the brittle edge of something that he had gained only in this strange incarnation, that made him refuse to listen or even consider alternatives. The way he would growl to himself sometimes in a voice that didn’t sound like him at all. 

She had mentioned it to Karna before, that Edison was the same as his normal self. His eyes darted to her, piercing and considering, but he didn’t comment. 

Nodding sharply, he accepted this request as well. 

~.~ 

“Aren’t you even going to tie me up?!” Elisabeth Bathory demanded, glaring at Arjuna as if he had personally offended her. 

Not because he had crashed her concern, beaten her up and then carried her off like a sack of rice. Not because he had then unceremoniously dumped her on the hard ground — that thrashing tail of hers was quite a pain. But because he had tried to walk off without tying her up. 

He already felt a headache coming on. 

It was tempting to just knock her out, but as a Servant, she wouldn’t stay unconscious for long. 

Escaping after the dramatic abduction, Arjuna had only taken them a few miles from Kearney, to an abandoned mill that presented a good vantage over the surrounding plains and gentle hills. It would be easy to see anyone approach, and it was better to remain close — after all, his goal was to be found. 

Even so, it would probably take at least a day or two for word to travel to Denver and a response to be made. 

“Hey, are you listening?!” Elisabeth protested, her voice rising an uncomfortable octave. “If you’re going to kidnap me, do it properly! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go!” 

“It’s not?” Sita, who had followed them separately, asked with a strange sort of interest. 

“Of course! You call this an abduction? It’s far too amateur!” Elisabeth declared, turning up her nose. “Where are the manacles? The dungeon? There should at least be some bars and an iron maiden for flavor! And for that matter, your Bonnie and Clyde routine is too weak! You should at least accompany him when doing the snatching. And add in an evil laugh together!” 

...Perhaps it wasn’t surprising, considering her identity, but this girl had some heavy tastes. 

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Arjuna looked around for some rope. Ordinary bindings couldn’t hold a Servant anyway and he was confident in his ability to subdue her even if she had full access to her abilities, but if she insisted, it was easier to play along. Maybe he’d throw in a gag too…

“That’s not right,” Sita said, focusing on something else entirely. “We are not like this country’s ‘Bonnie and Clyde.’ I have a husband. In fact, I am also a hostage.” 

Elisabeth’s mouth dropped open. 

“A serial kidnapper? So you’re a real villain!” she said, sounding almost impressed. “But how can you be this sloppy if that’s the case? Don’t you have any pride or sense of duty?” 

“...” Arjuna really didn’t know what to say to that. 

Wordlessly, he dropped several loops of rope around her and began to tighten them. 

“What are you doing?! Are you trying to turn me into a dragon sausage? Not like that! Tie me up more elegantly!” 

Ignoring her complaints, Arjuna threw the remaining length of rope over a beam and pulled it sharply to hoist her up into the air. Elisabeth’s protests rose in volume and she flailed, swinging like a pendulum, but he only took a few steps back to avoid her lashing tail and spiked shoes. 

‘How’s that?’ he thought, hiding a smirk. 

Sita watched the proceedings with interest. Staring at Elisabeth, who didn’t take long to start sniffling despite her attempts to continue acting indignant, she made a thoughtful sound that unexpectedly made Arjuna feel a flash of cold. 

“Lord Arjuna,” she said, turning to him with a mild expression that promised nothing good, “do you think I should also—” 

Her meaning was clear as she held up her wrists. 

“No,” Arjuna said immediately and firmly. Just in case that was not enough to deter her, he added, “Is there a need for it? Lady Sita knows the proper conduct of a hostage, unlike some.” 

Elisabeth spluttered, gaping at him. “Hey! HEY! Are you saying I’m not conducting myself properly? How dare you! I have always upheld proper decorum and the grace of the nobility!” 

There was a moment of silence that made Elisabeth’s expression grow increasingly wobbly. 

“Well. Perhaps these things differ by culture,” Sita said finally. It was a diplomatic answer befitting a queen. She followed it up with another worrying statement. “I’ve always thought that the proper decorum for a hostage was cold regality and an occasional look of pity.” 

That more or less matched how she had treated the Celts when they first met — frigid and unapproachable. There hadn’t been much pity though, Arjuna thought. 

“Pity?” Elisabeth repeated. Her brows furrowed deeply in utter confusion. 

“Indeed. Is it not pitiable?” Sita said, clasping her hands together and bowing her head for a moment. “This poor soul has lost the path of righteousness, driven to delusion by some disbalance in their hearts, and their wrongful acts will continue to burden them even into the next life. Yet they do not even realize that they must seek salvation, only rushing to their doom...” 

As expected of Lady Sita. 

“Oooh... Looking down on them, huh? That’s gotta stab a proper villain right in their pride,” Elisabeth said, nodding along. “That’s really next level. I never thought of that!” 

“I do have some experience with being kidnapped,” Sita demurred. She didn’t bother trying to correct Elisabeth — it was never her intention to look down on anyone, and her pity for those that lost their way was entirely genuine, even if they brought harm to her and others. 

Those that forgave sins and those who sought to right them, both were necessary. 

But why did Arjuna feel a certain unease at her words? He glanced toward her, even though Sita’s attention wasn’t on him at all. ...She... hadn’t been looking at him with pity, had she? He was only holding her hostage in name, even if he was properly abducting Elisabeth. He wouldn’t look like that to her, right? 

It wasn’t like that. He hadn’t lost his way but chose to abandon it. And he realized perfectly well what his wrongs were. He had purposefully thrown away the facade of the hero he had maintained in life. 

It was simply... what he had to do. 

There was no other choice. 

No. He had chosen. 

It was... 

Grimacing against his uncomfortable thoughts, Arjuna turned around and briskly headed out of the mill without another word. He didn’t notice or care that Elisabeth stuck her tongue out at him, her lashing tail making her sway back and forth again. But the unreadable look Sita shot him would have probably made him retreat even faster. 

~.~ 

It took less than two days for someone to arrive. 

Those were two very tortuous days. It turned out that Elisabeth Bathory was the kind of young girl who could not remain silent for more than five minutes in a row, nor could she endure being left to her own devices. While Sita at least provided an outwardly politely attentive audience to Elisabeth’s endless chatter, the fact that Arjuna had refused to let her down even once — she didn’t need to eat or use the restroom, after all — still made her grind her teeth and protest at the top of her voice whenever she saw him.

Her vocal power was... not inconsiderable. 

The end result was Arjuna spending almost the entire time atop of the abandoned mill’s roof instead of inside it. 

That was fine. Taking watch out in the elements for a few days was nothing. But he could still hear her voice going up and down as she chattered at Sita inside, and it didn’t take long to start giving him a headache. 

Was this plan really worth it, he wondered morosely. For that matter, would it even work? 

Logically, any Servant was a valuable asset to Edison’s army, so at least some measures would be taken to retrieve her. But thinking about that girl, did she really have any strategic value...? 

“Aaah...” Sighing deeply, Arjuna buried his face in one palm. 

The attack came swiftly and without warning, in that small opening. 

‘Presence Concealment!’ 

Up until the moment the blade — as tall as a person and quite wide, something that had no business being wielded by the Assassin class — swung at him, there had been no sense of presence and no sign of anyone’s approach. Arjuna couldn’t guess the rank, having been admittedly not exerting his senses to the fullest and only watching for obvious movements, but it was certainly not low. But once the attack began, there was no longer any hiding it. 

The sound of the blade cutting through the air, the killing intent... Even as he threw himself aside, Arjuna mentally catalogue those points. 

Most likely... this was not an Assassin. Even their attacks would be more stealthy. 

He didn’t escape entirely unscathed, but the wound across his flank was not deep enough to hinder him seriously. Gandiva was already in his hand and rang out without hesitation. 

His attacker twisted her sword around with admirable skill to knock the bolts aside and turned the momentum of the swing to launch herself at him, closing the distance he had tried to open up. It was indeed a ‘she’ — though he only caught a glimpse in the flurry of white cloth, her... ample bosom... was frankly unmistakable. 

“Targeting the emperor’s rival… you’ve got some guts!” the woman declared as Arjuna retreated again with light, swift movements and hovered momentarily just out of reach, before touching down on the roof of the mill’s tower. Unexpectedly, she smiled. “But it would be a shame to waste that beautiful face... If you beg for mercy now, I might lighten your sentence!” 

An emperor… then she was not a Celtic warrior, and it was unlikely that another Rogue Servant would join Medb’s forces like Arjuna had. In that case, she had to be someone on Edison’s side. 

...Someone who had been sent instead of Karna. 

“Wh… What’s with that expression!” the woman complained. “Are you disappointed to face me, Nero Claudius?!” 

“I wouldn’t dare,” Arjuna said without a hint of truthfulness and a fair amount of resentment. 

However, his tone seemed to go entirely over her head. “Good!” Nero declared. “Nonetheless, no matter how much of a beauty you are, you still need to be punished! Sunlight of spring, dancing flowers! The winds of May that brush your cheeks! The blessed bells that ring all the way beyond stella—

“—Open, Nuptiae Domus Aurea!”

Magical energy surged around her as her Noble Phantasm activated. The image of golden walls rose around her in an impressive feat of magecraft that immediately began to exert its effect on Arjuna. A stage, the balconies of viewing booths looking out over it, crimson curtains that had parted — it was a stage, and simultaneously a battlefield that gave every advantage to its master. 

Its rank was higher than his Magic Resistance, which was inconvenient. 

However, the difference was likely only about one rank, and there was still a noticeable decrease in the Noble Phantasm’s effectiveness. As for the rest… Their parameters were different to begin with. 

Nero twirled her sword into a striking stance, the white blade bursting into flame. 

“Sing, Fax— UH?!”

“–Howl. Agni Gandiva!”

Their Noble Phantasms collided in a magnificent explosion. 

Inside the abandoned mill, Elisabeth and Sita had both looked up toward the ceiling the moment Nero’s presence had become detectable. The old wooden beams and planks creaked, and a bit of dust rained down on them. Neither of them spoke, leaving the building in ominous silence. 

Only moments later, an eruption of magical energy washed over the area, making Elisabeth sway and the old mill groan in protest. 

“W-woah! What’s going on out there?!” she protested, finally unable to hold back any longer. 

“Oh good,” Sita said mildly. “Lord Arjuna held back properly this time.” 

It would have been inconvenient if the building got destroyed, like the mountain back then. 

A silhouette darkened the open doorway, and Arjuna strode inside, a large bundle of lace and white ruffles over one shoulder. ...No, wait. That was a bride. 

“Saber?!” Elisabeth realised, as the other girl was efficiently tied up and strung up next to her. “You got caught too? How embarrassing, hahaha!” 

Nero took a few moments to regain her senses and then to fully comprehend her situation. She immediately shouted in protest, flailing and making herself swing back and forth. Her yelling didn’t quite manage to drown out Elisabeth’s malicious laughter. Once she took notice of it, Nero quickly switched targets, kicking at her ‘rival’ and — when she found herself unable to reach — trying to swing over in that direction. 

The amount of noise had doubled. Feeling his head throb, Arjuna covered his face again. 

This plan would work, right? 

…

… 

No, he’d already come this far. He’d make it work. He’d take Edison’s entire army hostage if he had to. 

~.~

**Notes:**

-Some of Karna’s statements are paraphrased from the Apocrypha novels. Kudos to the translators! (even though they left us hanging for one chapter of vol 3 and all of vol 5 for… like three years now…) A bit is also taken from the various materials translations, mostly from the wiki. 

-I’ve seen some comments around about how Karna’s personality in the actual Mahabharata was not nearly as, shall we say, nice as in Fate. I haven’t read the Mahabharata myself, so I’ll be relying more on Nasu’s fanfic versions of the characters, as it were. It’s hardly the only case where he did some creative reinterpreting of myths. 

-I keep writing Elisabeth as Elizabeth…

-As stated in canon, Nero used “Imperial Privilege” to mimic an Assassin for a while.

-Sita, as always: BUT, DID YOU KNOW I HAVE A HUSBAND

-In chapter America, Liz actually calls Nero ‘Saber’ instead of by name, probably as a holdover from Extra. Robin does too, and Geronimo follows suit. Mash calls her Nero tho. 

-We’re roughly at the halfway mark of the story! From here, it’ll be “downhill” toward the final confrontations. 

~.~


	13. Return of the Chaldea

**Chapter 13: Return of the Chaldea**

The resistance had existed before Geronimo’s manifestation in the Singularity, but they had been little more than scattered bands fleeing from both the Celts and Edison’s draconian measures. Unlike the eras Chaldea had visited before, there had been no leaders left among the living humans — Medb had been thorough in that sense — and it was only by unifying behind a Heroic Spirit that the resistance had been able to become a genuine force. 

Fortunately, Geronimo had left clear instructions in case of his own death, both to his subordinates and to Robin and Billy. 

“It’s almost like he was planning on kicking the bucket,” Robin muttered bitterly. “But yeah, I know where we can meet up with them, and they know me, so they’ll listen. Just don’t expect me to actually lead them or anything. I don’t know shit about that stuff.” 

A few days after escaping their disastrous confrontation with Cu Chulainn, they were finally recovered enough to consider their next steps. 

That included linking back up with the resistance forces, to make use of their information network, if nothing else. It had been just them, Ritsuka and Mash would have been at a complete loss. With the vastness of this Singularity’s lands and the distortions to North America’s normal geography, it was uncertain whether they would have even been able to find another human settlement easily, much less a rebel outpost. 

So Geronimo’s preparations hadn’t been in vain. 

But it was still bitter. 

“If they agree to fight with us, then I can lead on the battlefield,” Rama said. “My army was composed of monkeys, but I do have some experience. But off the battlefield... these people are too different from me. It wouldn’t feel right. The only one here who even shares their homeland is...” 

It was Billy, and everyone turned to look at him together. 

“Hey. Hey! Y’all aren’t thinking something crazy like having me take over for old man Geronimmo, are ya?” Billy protested, nearly slipping off the rock he had been leaning against in surprise. “It’s not happening! I ain’t like you king types, I don’t know jack about leading! I was a lone wolf most of my life!” 

“What king types, I didn’t lead anyone either, and you think the kids can do it?” Robin shot back. 

Billy shot Mash and Ritsuka a desperate sort of look, as if he really wanted to say that they could, in fact, do it. However, he couldn’t quite manage it. Someone with more pride might have found the blatant lack of belief insulting, but Ritsuka was self-aware enough to know it was more than warranted. He was just an ordinary student, before coming to Chaldea. He had never so much as led a school club, much less a rebel force in the middle of a war between mythological factions. 

And even in the previous Singularities, there had been Jeanne, Nero, and many others who had supported them, taking the lead. Just the thought of taking command left his hands shaking. 

But... was Billy any better off? 

Henry McCarty had died at age 21. Unlike Rama, who had the wisdom of a king even if his disposition was of his younger self, Billy was exactly as he appeared. He was a modern human, who might have lived the life of an outlaw but had certainly never experienced anything that would prepare him for this situation. 

Sensing something of his turbulent emotions, Mash laid a supportive hand on Ritsuka’s shoulder. 

She didn’t need to say anything. Ritsuka already knew — whatever he chose, she would support him. Smiling in thanks, he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. 

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly but firmly. “I’m not an American, but I’m a living human. The resistance and I will have that in common, and protecting the Foundation of Humanity is something humans should do with their own power. I’ll handle... leading them.” 

Ducking his head, Billy pulled down the brim of his hat, both guilty and relieved. Rama and Robin, expression unreadable, didn’t comment either. Nightingale, who had been indifferent to their discussions from the start, only glanced at them before looking away again. 

Instead, the one who spoke up was not among their group. 

“Fufufu...” A woman’s quiet laughter came from somewhere just behind Ritsuka. “Good. That’s what I want to hear.” 

The Servants had reacted immediately, but they stopped in the middle of shifting into a combat stance, their hands still poised to grasp for their weapons. Their expressions showed shock, making Ritsuka and Mash twist around to look behind them at this unexpected visitor. 

However, there was no need. Striding gracefully, the woman walked into their circle, her eyes momentarily meeting Ritsuka’s as she drew level with him. 

“Miss Scathach!” Mash exclaimed in surprise. 

Indeed, it was the Queen of the Land of Shadows, the Master of Dún Scáith.

Since she had saved them from Cu Chulainn before, she was probably not an enemy. Reaching the same conclusion, everyone relaxed a little — but only a little. Keeping their guard up against an unknown element was only logical. Although there was no way she could have missed it, Scathach appeared unconcerned. 

“I also think that humans should be the ones to save this era — and defeat Cu Chulainn,” she said. “If you have the will to fight, then I will lend you my support.” 

The communicator on Ritsuka’s wrist beeped, and a blue hologram of Doctor Roman appeared over it. 

Although the communicators did have this function, the hologram format was used only rarely. People in the Singularities were already taken aback enough by a voice out of nowhere. They would probably take a floating blue torso as a ghost or something, and that something no one wanted to clarify repeatedly. If Doctor Roman was using it, that meant he felt this conversation was important. Obligingly, Ritsuka shifted the hologram toward Scathach.

The mood in their group had been silent and brooding since their encounter with Cu Chulainn, but Mash and Romani had quietly explained to Ritsuka about the mysterious woman who saved them. Records of her legends were far more sparse than her student’s, but even so, they knew clearly — she was extremely powerful. 

Having her support was no small thing. 

However, ‘support’... 

“Fighting for humanity’s future is Chaldea’s purpose,” Doctor Roman said. “We would be grateful for your support. That being said, is this the reason you haven’t gone against Cu Chulainn himself? Because you want a human to do it?” 

“That’s part of it,” Scathach said. “The other part… Hm. It seems you haven’t realized this yet. But Cu Chulainn is not your only enemy here, and he doesn’t have this era’s Holy Grail. The one who holds it is Queen Medb, the one who summoned… no, created this version of him.” 

Doctor Roman’s expression darkened. 

Queen Medb… that name was slightly familiar. It had come up during the prior explanations of Cu Chulainn’s legend. However, it had only been mentioned as someone he fought against in the past, which didn’t tell Ritsuka much about this mysterious queen’s nature or abilities. He would have to ask later — now was probably not the time. 

“If I target Medb, I would defeat her, but I would most likely end up destroying the Holy Grail she’s carrying in the process. That would be unlucky for you, yes?” Scathach went on. “And if I fight Cu Chulainn, this Singularity itself might end up collapsing. That would also be quite unfortunate.” 

Robin and Billy simultaneously ducked their heads slightly, trying to hide the thought that passed through their minds. 

_ —If it’s like that, what good are you? _

The very corner of Scathach’s lips curled faintly, and Ritsuka had a sudden sense that she knew exactly what they were thinking. However, she didn’t comment or even look at them. 

“Of course, that would be too easy,” Doctor Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. Scathach’s smile widened just a hair, but the acting commander didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d put his foot in his mouth again. 

“It’s unfortunate, but it’s still good to gain such a powerful ally,” Da Vinci corrected him more diplomatically, somewhere beyond the hologram’s range.

“Yeah, of course!” Romani agreed quickly. “Haha, we’re very lucky to have you! ...But that still leaves us in the same place as before. We need to decide our next move.” 

“Is there something to choose from? We don’t have a lot of options,” Rama said bluntly. “It’s as we discussed — we’ll regroup with the resistance. Then, we’ll attack the Celtic army’s stronghold in Washington and face Cu Chulainn.” He paused, and asked with apparent sincerity, “Unless Master Scathach has some wisdom to offer?” 

“Fufu… I don’t hate obedient boys like you,” Scathach said. She studied Rama for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You do have strength. If it was the normal Setanta, it would be a good match. But the way he is now...” 

Although he shot her a look, Rama didn’t protest. Whether he agreed with her assessment and implications or not, he had been raised to properly obey exalted masters of great skill and didn’t dare to make a fuss. The change from his usual brash demeanor was... a little cute. 

“You think Medb has done something to increase his power? Like linking him to the Grail or...?” Doctor Roman wondered. 

Scathach did not give a direct answer. Perhaps she also could not explain it, beyond a wordless ‘instinct’ that nonetheless could not be discounted. “His power is abnormal,” she only said instead. “Beyond that, you won’t be able to catch him alone like that again. This Singularity does not have much longer left, and Medb is already amassing her forces for a final battle. No matter how powerful you are, on a full pitched battlefield, your small group will easily be swept up in the tide.” 

“She’s got a point. I don’t know precisely, but I don’t think Geronimo’s resistance had that many people,” Robin said. “That’s why we were always relying on guerilla tactics and tricks. They won’t stand a chance if they get caught between the Western army and the Celts.” 

“But then, what can we do?” Mash blurted out, her expression furrowed with worry. 

“Yeah, she's right. What else can we do?” Rama said, crossing his arms and frowning. “We don’t have an army, that’s true. But it’s not like there’s a way for us to make one appear out of nowhere. We have to proceed now, with what we have.” 

Looking down at the ground between his feet, Ritsuka touched his chin and thought. 

It was as Rama said. They did not have an army, but there was no way to materialize one either. In this era, there were only two armies, and everything had already been divided between those two sides. The few strays scattered about, whether the rebel forces or the Rogue Servants, would not be enough to create a third faction. 

Then, if they needed an army, there was only one choice. 

“Let’s talk to Edison again,” Ritsuka said calmly. 

The discussion that had continued going in circles while he thought came to abrupt halt as everyone turned to look at him. Ritsuka blinked. He hadn’t said anything strange, had he? 

“...Haa...” Doctor Roman sighed through the communicator. “Fujimaru-kun, could you explain? Didn’t we already try that? You were the one who insisted we can’t ally with him, since he doesn’t want to restore human history. Did you change your mind?” 

“No,” Ritsuka said. “I still don’t agree with pretending to be his allies and then betraying him later. But we can try to convince him to help us one more time. If that doesn’t work, we can offer to temporarily cooperate, until Medb is defeated. And if that’s not enough... We’ll just have to beat him and take over the United Western States.” 

For some reason, Robin choked. Billy whistled. 

Ritsuka glanced at one, then the other, but Robin only waved one hand while hiding his face, while Billy coughed into his fist. 

“Beat him up?” Mash squeaked. However, she quickly settled her state of mind and nodded firmly. “I understand, Senpai! We will beat him up!” 

“Only if we can’t negotiate with him,” Ritsuka reminded her. 

Unexpectedly, Nightingale also added her agreement. “We will go to the patient and treat the illness of the United States,” she said, clenching her fists. “This is good. As expected of Master.” Ritsuka hadn’t even realized she was following the discussion at all. But she was ready to treat patients as always — with violence, as expected of Nightingale. 

“Hah! Now this is a good plan,” Rama laughed. “Then leave Karna to me. We should be evenly matched, especially if he doesn’t play his last card.” 

“Um… that’s nice and all, but can we really just take over the Western army like that?” Doctor Roman wondered. “They’re real people, and they’re modern humans at that. They won’t necessarily follow might makes right like that.” 

“I think that’s why they’ll have even more reason to follow us,” Ritsuka said. “When you think about it, do you think the people agreed with Edison’s plan to separate America from human history and set it adrift in the void? Or would they prefer to return to the world they knew?” 

The answer to that was obvious. Normal people would naturally long for a return to their normal lives. Ritsuka understood that better than anyone — he had been fighting for the same thing all along. 

“Edison calls himself the President, but he’s stranger to them, and in a strange form, at that. It’s just that they don’t have any choice but to rely on him,” he went on. “I don’t think they will refuse to follow us, if we promise to bring an end to this Singularity.”

Ritsuka paused. 

“Of course, it would be best if we could convince Edison to cooperate as well. He, Karna and Madame Blavatsky would be a big help against the Celts,” he added. 

“...Understood,” Romani sighed finally. “Then that’s how we’ll proceed. Our next destination — Denver.” 

~.~

Once the decision was made, everyone was ready to act swiftly. 

However, that didn’t mean they would charge blindly into the Western American capital. Denver was a fortress, defended both by troops and magic. There were still preparations to be made. 

Foremost among them, communicating with the Resistance. Letting them know about the outcome of their ill-fated mission against Cu Chulainn and their next plans, gathering any information they had about Denver and the surrounding areas. It would be more like an infiltration than a full assault, so they wouldn’t ask the rebels to provide them with backup, but even a map of the local roads would help. 

The other thing was... training. 

“I am a teacher, after all,” Scathach said with a smile. “This is how I support heroes.” 

By beating them until they cried, apparently. 

As a weak ordinary human, Ritsuka had luckily been exempt, but he couldn’t help cringing a little with every heavy thud and pained groan as someone bit the dust again and again. Billy and Robin had suddenly become very focused on their work with the resistance, but Mash and Rama both took their lumps without complaints and even thanked Scathach too. 

As for Nightingale, Scathach had stared down with her for a tense twenty seconds before agreeing that “nurses do not belong on the battlefield” with a completely straight face, as if Nightingale wasn’t the first one rushing into battle when the time came. 

Since they had broken Cu Chulainn’s Gae Bolg, Scathach had chosen to fight barehanded as well. However, this didn’t make her any less deadly or stop her from thrashing everyone soundly. No matter how many weapons Rama — who was facing her now — pulled out, the result was always the same. 

Face down on the ground. 

When it took Rama longer than a five count to start getting up again, Scathach finally called a halt to the ‘training.’ 

“Time to switch,” she declared. “Shielder… Hm. You haven’t recovered yet.” 

She was right. Mash had jumped when addressed, but it seemed she hadn’t been paying attention to the proceedings — unlike the early rounds, where she had earnestly studied Rama’s struggles for some additional insights. Scathach’s tone hadn’t been judgmental, but Mash still flushed as she struggled to sit up straight. Getting to her feet was entirely beyond her, which just proved the point. 

“M-my apologies, just one moment—!” 

“We’ll call it a day here,” Scathach decided. “You are a Demi Servant, but you are also still a living human. That makes you more fragile.” 

“Yes,” Ritsuka agreed firmly. When Mash tried to protest, he placed his hand over hers, making her fall silent. 

Being human was not a flaw, even if it was a weakness. 

Scathach’s red eyes lingered on their joined hands, her expression unreadable. Finally, she smiled. “You are a good Master,” she said. “And a good pair. My choice was right. Humans should be the ones to decide humanity’s fate. For those like us... looking to the future is just not possible.” 

“Not possible?” Ritsuka repeated with a frown. 

“None of us are still alive. Thus, we have no future,” Scathach explained. “For us, there is only the past, and the unresolved regrets and obsessions that stem from it. The limits of our existence have already been decided. And since we cannot create anything new, all that’s left is to throw away everything and chase our lingering desires.” 

Her lips twisted faintly, without joy or even amusement. “That’s the kind of existence a Servant is.”

Ritsuka didn’t protest. Not because he agreed, but because he couldn’t find the right words to express his feelings. 

A Servant had no future? They could only blindly chase their obsessions? 

That couldn’t be right. All the Servants who had helped them throughout the Singularities... They had made their choices based on the world around them, just like a living human would. Some, like Euryale and Asterios, had built relationships and experiences that they’d never had in their original lives. Some, like Boudica and Geronimo, had even gone against their deep grudges for the sake of the future. 

To say that their limits of their existence were already decided... 

“Senpai,” Mash called out, dragging Ritsuka out of his thoughts. She was looking at him with clear worry, so Ritsuka quickly put on a smile. 

“It’s alright,” he said. 

Scathach had already disappeared, as she tended to whenever she was not training their ability to confront death. She never lingered among their group. Instead, Rama had finally managed to stand up and made his way over. 

Groaning, he dropped back onto the ground next to the two of them. 

“I’m still alive...” he muttered. Catching sight of Ritsuka’s lingering frown, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s with that look? Don’t tell me, you’re worrying about what she said?” 

“Do you think she’s right?” Ritsuka wondered. 

Rama wrinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. The black ribbon tying it back had come askew, and he carefully tugged it back into place. “She’s not wrong,” he said distractedly. “But I don’t know if she’s right either. Probably, she’s talking from her own perspective. For an immortal who continues to exist among the dead, maybe it’s like that.” 

“But what about you?” Ritsuka said. “Is it like that?” 

Rama sighed. “Well... yes. Everything is already decided. The people I love, the things I treasure. Even when I meet new friends like you, I already know we’ll be parted soon. It’s different compared to being alive. When you’re still living... even if you lose everything, you can create a new place for yourself and a new future. You can find a new home, new friends, even a new family. Even if it hurts and you feel like you’re falling into despair, your possibilities are still endless. But for us, that is no longer the case, because we are not part of the world of the living.” 

Unexpectedly, Mash’s hand tightened around his, making Ritsuka glance at her in surprise. Her expression was set in a blank mask, unreadable but clearly troubled. 

What part of Rama’s words had touched her like that? 

He didn’t have a chance to ask. 

“But,” Rama went on, “I think the other part is wrong. Even we Heroic Spirits can’t just indulge our desires and throw away everything else. If we did that, we wouldn’t be qualified to be considered heroes in the first place. The way to an upright existence is to balance our desires and what is right. It’s the same for her too... She must have her own wish, but instead of chasing it, she’s chosen to support us instead.” 

“Then you also...” Ritsuka trailed off as he quickly realized — of course it was the same for Rama. From the start, they had known what Rama’s deepest wish was, and Rama was indeed setting it aside to uphold his duties. 

Instead of pursuing Arjuna and seeking the reunion with Sita he wished for, he was helping them against Edison and the Celts. 

Rama grinned. It should have been a youthful expression on a young face, but there was something unexpectedly mature about it. 

Feeling something twist uncomfortably in his stomach, Ritsuka looked away. 

“Then Arjuna...?” he changed his question. 

“Exactly! I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he should know better than to use the end of the world as his personal stage,” Rama groaned, the seriousness and gravitas of his demeanor dropping away as he complained. “He'll probably show up at some point, once everything heads toward the final confrontation. When he does, I’ll give him a piece of my mind, that brat...” 

What he would actually give him would probably be a beating, judging by the way Rama clenched one fist and gestured threateningly. 

Mash couldn’t hold back a quiet giggle, no doubt remembering Rama’s story about the bridge and the monkey before. Encouraged, Rama went on. 

“Don’t even get me started on Karna. He’s basically just doing the same thing all over again. He’s up first, so I’ll do him first,” he declared. Crossing his arms, he stuck out his chest — heedless of the ridiculous picture he made, covered in dust from Scathach’s ‘training.’ “So that Arjuna wants to know who is the strongest Indian hero? Well, I’ll show them both — obviously, it’s me!” 

Wasn’t it a foregone conclusion? Wasn’t he their senior as a legendary hero? Wasn’t Saber the strongest class? He’d show them — and also Sita! 

In his heart, Rama... wanted to show off to the girl he liked. 

Clapping a hand over his mouth, Ritsuka tried to hide his laughter, even as his shoulders shook tellingly. Next to him, Mash was no better off. Rama huffed when he noticed, but he was smiling too. 

“Yes,” Ritsuka agreed, finally catching his breath. “We’re lucky to, haha, have the strongest hero on our side!” 

~.~

**Notes:**

-It’s time for another canon protag section. 

-Writing Scathach is my greatest fear. I also refuse to go look up her interlude or trial quest or whatever for reference. I don’t want to! You can’t make me!! 

-I just realized that I have been extremely inconsistent with some terminology. Stuff like the United Western States (I keep writing Western US lol) and the Resistance (I keep writing Rebellion). But uh... please just ignore that and forgive me. 

-We only find out about Mash’s short lifespan after America, iirc, so Ritsuka doesn’t know yet. When Rama is talking, Mash is thinking about how she also doesn’t really have a future or the endless possibilities of a normal person. 

~.~


	14. Ritsuka & Mash Go to Denver (Chaldea)

**Chapter 14: Ritsuka & Mash Go to Denver**

Through a bit of intelligence gathering, some stolen uniforms, and Robin’s smooth talking, they managed to get all the way to Denver’s inner gates before their cover was blown. 

After that, there was no choice but to fight. 

“Begone! There are patients waiting!” Nightingale shouted, kicking another mechanized soldier with enough force to send them flying. Her gun rang out again and again, followed by the explosion of another mortar. 

Rama, the only one still in the mood to listen, laughed dryly. “Yes, such encouraging words...” he muttered. His sword didn’t pause no matter how he rolled his eyes, however. 

Behind the vanguard formed by those two, Billy and Robin had their hands full providing ranged support, arrows and bullets flying with unerring precision. Although their party continued to move quickly from the gates toward the main building of the fortress, reinforcements were already swarming the courtyard. No matter how much stronger a Servant was compared to a mechanized soldier, getting overrun remained a threat — especially since everyone was using the flat of their sword, shield or guns. 

It was good that they had been able to trick their way in so far. Denver was a fortress city, with countless civilians taking shelter inside the outer walls. If they had been stopped at the first gate and had to fight their way in through the city streets... 

Of Scathach, there had been no sign since they had set out. Whether she was following along in hiding, or if she was only watching from afar, there was no way to tell. 

“Incoming!” Robin called out suddenly, noticing something with the sharp senses of an Archer. 

Ritsuka had no chance to check what it could be — Mash reacted without hesitation, jumping to cover him with her massive shield. She was just in time, as a wave of flame crashed over their group. It was familiar. ...Of course it was. They had experienced the same thing weeks back, when they first arrived in this Singularity. 

It was Karna. He even used about the same degree of power, just enough to knock out a weak human like Ritsuka, but not enough to kill him. And of course, the mechanized soldiers on Karna’s side could endure this level of damage as well. 

By the same token, the Servants were only temporarily disoriented. 

“So you've come,” Karna noted dispassionately. “Just as Blavasky predicted... Her instincts are good.” 

Gathering his nerve, Ritsuka called out, “Karna! We didn’t come to fight,” — per se, — “we just want to talk to Edison! We have the same enemy and... I believe we have the same wish too! Can’t you let us through?” 

“Yes. It is as my Master says,” Nightingale spoke up, unexpectedly. “Withdraw at once. What you truly desire cannot be achieved here, so there is no reason for you to be here to begin with. It must be that you are also ill.” Her eyes narrowed, as if trying to find some invisible wound on his person. 

“You may be right,” Karna agreed placidly. “I'm infected by an illness called loyalty. That is my reason.” 

‘Did he... think he was being cool with that response?’ Ritsuka wondered. 

...He definitely did, he thought that was cool...!

“Forget it, Fujimaru. This guy isn’t going to listen,” Rama said. “Both he and Arjuna have the same illness called  _ incurable stupidity. _ Leave him to me and head inside!” 

He didn’t miss the way Karna’s eyes darted to him momentarily at the mention of a certain name. Rama wanted to mock him a bit, or maybe roll his eyes again, but there wasn’t any time for that. For all that they were talking, letting his guard down would be a fatal mistake. Despite his proud words before, in truth Rama couldn’t say with certainty who ‘the strongest hero of India’ would be, when it came down to it. 

“—Alright,” Ritsuka decided quickly. “Rama, hold him down!” 

“I will leave this patient to you,” Nightingale agreed. 

She immediately followed it up with another thrown explosive, which took the doors of the fortress straight off their hinges. With Rama standing between Karna and their backs, the rest of the team rushed inside. There would doubtlessly be more mechanized soldiers inside, as well additional defenses — and then Edison himself. But it was no longer Rama’s place to worry about them. 

His opponent was in front of him. 

“You’re aware that Arjuna is in this era as well, right?” Rama said. 

Karna included his head slightly. 

“But you didn’t go chasing after him,” Rama went on. “I don’t know whether to say you’re smarter than him or not... What he’s doing is so stupid it makes me want to beat him until he cries, but you’re just doing the same thing as you did before. Are you going to be satisfied with the same outcome again?” 

Given what he knew of Karna’s nature, he had expected a short snub or even a piercing counterattack. After all, it wasn’t as if Rama’s heart was without doubts. 

However, Karna actually looked momentarily troubled by his words. 

“...I am merely doing what I can within the range of actions available to me,” Karna said. “The King of Inventions asked for my help — he kneeled before a worthless man like me. And he even resembles that old friend of mine... I could not reject his pleas. I cannot leave him be.” 

“And what of his aims? To create a new timeline called ‘America’?” Rama asked. “The Foundation of Humanity will be destroyed, and human history will be wiped out. Even now, there are people fighting to restore it and save countless lives. Aren’t you choosing to forsake them instead?” 

These were things Karna himself had already thought. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have agitated him so much. 

His grip on his spear tightened minutely. 

“Should I forsake loyalty instead?” he asked with a faint steely, sharp edge. However, that frustration vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, like a flash of flame. He closed his eyes for a moment, his expression smoothing out again as he let go of those thoughts. “...I should have expected it. You and Lord Krishna are the same, after all. To think this conversation would come again... And yet, I still do not have an answer.” 

“There probably isn’t just one answer to find,” Rama admitted. “But even so, I know what my answer is, here and now.” 

“...Yes,” Karna agreed. “I too know mine.” 

But that answer, Rama could see, was not one he was willing to put everything on the line for. And as long as he held back from using Vasavi Shakti, the outcome of their battle was not yet determined. 

The rest... would be up to Ritsuka. 

~.~ 

“Head up those stairs, and it should be a clear path to the throne room!” Doctor Roman’s raised voice instructed over the comms. 

He had been providing navigation from Chaldea, using the many instruments in the control room to analyze their surroundings and guide them along the correct route, but it was no longer necessary at that point. Ritsuka could recognize the area now — this was the way Madame Blavatsky had brought them before, the last time they had been in Denver. 

They had already outpaced all the guards inside the building, or perhaps an order had been issued for them to retreat, since none of them could match a Servant anyway, so the way forward was clear. Up ahead were the impressive double doors, and then... 

The throne room. 

...The United States of America was not a place that should have ever had a throne room or a throne. From the founding to present day, it had always been a modern nation without a king. For a man who had lived after the age of monarchs had ended to come up with this notion, Edison must have been indeed ‘ill’ in some fashion. 

Doors slammed open with a bang. The throne room was empty save for the single statue-like figure waiting at the other end. 

‘Madame Blavatsky isn’t here?’ Ritsuka noted with surprise and unease. Edison was unlikely to be a particularly powerful Servant, and if they could fight him alone, their odds would be good. But for Helena to be missing at a time like this... was she in hiding somewhere, waiting to spring a trap? 

Edison turned and snarled at them, baring his fangs. 

“How dare you come here! You reprehensible traitors!” he roared. “Why can you not believe in my righteousness? To think someone with your ideals wouldn't share my own...! This is a huge disappointment! I haven't been this sad since the unemployment rate hit 30%!” 

He really did roar, the bestial sound echoing up and down the throne room. 

“Please wait, Mr. Edison!” Ritsuka called out, struggling to make himself heard. He gestured quickly for Nightingale to keep her gun down — at least for now. “I also think our ideals should not be far apart! There should be a way for us to find a compromise! Please, let’s try talking it over one more time!” 

Stopping in mid-roar, Edison closed his jaw full of long fangs and coughed into his fist. “Ahem. Is that so?” He crossed his arms and studied their motley group for a moment. “Have you finally realized my greatness and my intelligence?” 

Ritsuka ignored that. “We have a common enemy — the Celts. Why don’t we cooperate at least until they are defeated?” 

“Oh, you realized how dangerous those barbarians are! So you came to ask for my protection?” Edison said, stroking his furry chin. 

There was something wrong with his responses, more than Ritsuka could just ignore. 

If he had been mocking them, that would be fine. Ritsuka wasn’t someone who valued his pride over other things. He wouldn’t get angry or argue back. But Edison seemed entirely sincere. It wasn’t even the sort of noble arrogance that led to speaking as if you didn’t even hear the words of others. This was almost more like... 

Speaking to a Berserker. 

Ludicrous 20 hour workdays, completely forgetting the limits of humans, talking to himself, not hearing others, even that strange form — Ritsuka’s thoughts turned quickly, distracting him. 

Instead, the one who answered was Nightingale. 

“You’re ill,” she judged shortly and simply. “You must receive treatment immediately.” 

Edison blinked, his bushy eyebrows rising. “How rude,” he complained. “What part of me is ill? These strong limbs! This sound body, bursting with health! This sharp and honed intellect—!”

“Be quiet,” Nightingale snapped. “What's so rude about telling a patient that they're ill?”

Furiously stroking his chin, Edison appeared to give this matter serious consideration. 

“Mr. Edison!” Ritsuka tried one more time. “It’s not that we want to seek protection from you, nor do we want to join your United Western States. Our aim is still the restoration of humanity. Can’t you reconsider? Please think about it — America was able to become a great nation because of the many people who immigrated here from across the world. Isn’t it the same for Madame Blavatsky and even your ancestors? Can America really prosper while forsaking the rest of humanity? 

“Please help us correct this era! We need the power of your inventions to save everyone!” 

This was the best pitch Chaldea’s combined efforts could come up with. They had tried to include as many phrases that could appeal to Edison as possible, brainstorming together. 

There was a reaction. 

Edison completely froze for a long moment, visibly shocked into a stupor. “S-save the world...” he muttered to himself, moving jerkily once he finally recovered. “Indeed, it is the only feat that could surpass even my inventions... It is a duty that must be fulfilled by a genius!” Before Ritsuka could breathe a sigh of relief, Edison — who had been looking to one side as he debated himself — twisted his torso around to the opposite direction. “But America! America was entrusted to me! This country must come first!” 

“If we work together, we have the power to save everyone!” Ritsuka cut in quickly. “That’s why—” 

A roar drowned out the rest of his words. It seemed Edison was no longer listening. 

“Master,” Nightingale sighed, stepping forward, “please prepare to operate. First, we’ll need to put the patient on bedrest, and make him hear out what we have to say.” 

And by putting him on bedrest, she meant making him unable to get up from the bed, no doubt. 

In the end, it would have to be a beating after all. 

“Looks like he won’t listen to us any other way,” Ritsuka agreed. “Everyone ready?” 

“Ready, Senpai!” Mash answered quickly. 

“Ready,” Robin echoed. 

“Ready, partner,” Billy finished the roll call. “Let’s get our Mister President straightened out!” 

“READY!!” Unexpectedly, Edison roared as well. “FOR AMERICA!” 

He was already flying toward them, wreathed in yellow lightning. 

~.~ 

**Notes:**

-Short chapter, mostly because it felt like a good breaking point and because I need to pad out the posting schedule a bit. 

-Most of this is a retread of canon. But maybe you’re like me and it’s been a while since you’ve played America, haha... 

-I did cut down Nightingale's lines. This is in part because I personally felt that she took the lead too much, especially for a Berserker. So some of the conversations were shuffled around to other people instead. Both these trends will continue in the next chapter.

~.~


	15. National Treasure (Chaldea)

**Chapter 15: National Treasure**

Like Tesla, Thomas Edison was uncharacteristically powerful for a modern day Heroic Spirit and fought with abilities he certainly did not possess in life. Tesla had been even further empowered by the Demonic Fog, when they faced him in London, and Edison… 

Edison’s manifestation was probably also influenced by something.

However, even with their somewhat ragtag group, the battle was not one that could rank among their toughest. Whatever influence he might have been under, Edison still lacked the unpredictable brutality of the truly unhinged — like Dark Jeanne’s twisted Servants or even the strange black Lancer version of King Arthur. He never so much as considered attacking Ritsuka, despite the support he provided from the sidelines, and all of his attacks had the straightforward nature of someone relying on pure power rather than technique. 

No matter how many punches or lightning bolts he threw, the result approached slowly but inevitably. And finally, after the throne room had been nearly reduced to rubble, along with several adjacent, Edison dropped to his knees. 

“Wooooh—! Not yet, I haven’t lost yet!” he tried to protest, even as he struggled and failed to rise. “I will not surrender!” 

“No, you’ve lost,” Nightingale corrected him mercilessly. “Has the treatment been sufficient?” 

If now, she was clearly ready for another round, her fists held up at the ready. 

Ritsuka quickly waved her back. “Mister Edison, you understand now, right?” he tried more gently. “You can’t beat us on your own, and it would be the same for the Celts, that’s why…” 

But unfortunately, it seemed that the treatment had not been sufficient after all.

“NO!” Edison roared, making Ritsuka stumble back quickly, while Mash jumped in front of him defensively. “I must not lose here! If I do not suffice as a soldier, then I shall give up this body of mine to SCIENCE! I shall cast away this humanoid gentleman's form, if that is what it’ll take! Time for Thomas's big remodeling, a beastly boost—!”

“Wh-what’s with these corny villain lines?” Doctor Roman complained. There was a yelp as Da Vinci presumably shoved him aside. 

“Fujimaru-kun, what is he doing?” she demanded far more sensibly. 

There was no time to explain it to her. Ritsuka could see that Edison had pulled out some kind of vial, full of a mysterious, faintly glowing liquid, and he felt a sudden sense of certainty that they could not allow him to put it to use. 

“Billy—” he started to call out, knowing all of them were too far to reach him. Their only hope would be the legendary quickdraw of the west. 

“I'll transform into—!” Edison shouted, lifting the vial up, clutched tightly in his massive hand. 

A pile of rubble or maybe the last remains of a wall burst apart, drowning everything in a momentary cloud of dust. Something dashed through, faster than Ristuka could follow. There was a squawk from Edison, and the sound of shattering glass. 

“Gah! My superhuman elixir!” Edison’s voice came from within the slowly clearing dust. “Wh-What was that for, Karna?!”

Karna? 

It was indeed Karna. The black and red blur that had knocked the vial out of Edison’s hand solidified into his figure, his back to their team. 

Why was Karna here? 

Ritsuka glanced at Rama as he deftly hopped over rubble to join them as well, if at a far more sedate pace. The King of Kosala only grinned lightly, as if to say, ‘Wait and see.’ It was unclear if they had halted their battle outside, or if Karna had forcefully disengaged to rush to the throne room. Either was possible — Rama’s goal had always been just to stall. 

“Sorry, Edison,” Karna said. He sounded as calm as always, as if he had already settled all the doubts in his heart. However, he did not approach, keeping his back to the ones who should have been his enemies, and the tip of his spear, usually completely steady and sure, wavered slightly where it pointed toward the ground. “But this ends here. This truly is a path toward destruction, and as your friend, I cannot let you walk it any further.” 

Edison growled lowly. “If you are my friend—!” 

“I made a promise to Blavatsky as well,” Karna said. He exhaled lightly. “First and foremost, that medicine is bad for your body.”

Nightingale nodded twice, deeply in agreement. 

However, Edison only scoffed, slowly and painfully forcing himself to straighten, showing off his broad-shouldered bulk. “Good medicine is always bitter to the taste. I can withstand my heart exploding!” he said, as if both statements had the same weight. “If I don't hold my ground here, who is going to protect this nation?”

“Protect?” Nightingale repeated sharply. “For someone trying to protect, you have a rather illogical method of fighting.”

“I agree,” Karna added before Edison could reply. 

Edison clearly wanted to protest, but he seemed confused about which one to reply to. He looked between with almost comical confusion, his thick brows deeply furrowed and his jaw moving uncertainly as if on the verge of words. 

“What... D-Did you just call me...  _ illogical?” _ he finally demanded, aghast — at Nightingale, who had dealt the heaviest blow. “I am always logical! Both this nation and I are children of logic. I can't possibly be illogical—”

“It is illogical,” Karna repeated, making Edison jump like a scalded cat and snap around toward him instead. “There is no purpose in continuing to fight them. Because… we can’t win.”

“No! We can still—!” 

“You’ve been falling behind the Celts all along, and it’s not going to get better,” Doctor Roman spoke up, taking the opening Ritsuka hadn’t quite been able to seize. “The gap between the Celtic warriors and normal humans is just too much, even with your inventions. Moreover, Queen Medb has a Holy Grail, so her forces can multiply endlessly. Whether it’s quality or quantity, there’s simply no way for you to win the way you’ve been fighting.” 

It sounded terribly harsh, spelled out like that. It was something that anyone would instinctively reject, and that was why Ritsuka had hesitated to say it, forcing Doctor Roman to take the lead. 

But they weren’t telling him to just give up…!

“You became fixated on the system of mass production. That is a sign of your illness,” Nightingale said. “And because of that, you forgot the most important quality of Thomas Edison!” 

“I didn’t forget!” Edison protested immediately. But as Nightingale jabbed her finger at him with the annoyance of a nurse forced to deal with someone far too recalcitrant, he didn’t sound angry anymore, just confused and a bit cowed. “The most important thing… yes, that, um…” 

“The most famous story about how the light bulb was invented,” Doctor Roman said, “and what it took.” 

“I know!” Mash burst out, her hand shooting into the air. “It required testing more than 6000 materials!” 

“It was 8000!” Edison roared. 

There was a muffled yelp from Ritsuka’s communicator, and Da Vinci’s voice was the one that followed. “That’s right,” she agreed. “You tested countless materials without ever giving up. And as a fellow inventor, I know what you were thinking — if it’s the 6000th, or the 8000th, it doesn’t matter, because there are still more to try. And even if you can’t find something that works…” 

“I’ll invent it,” Edison said. “Ah, yes… that’s what I thought. ‘If it doesn't exist, I will invent it.’” 

His stubborn stance had already deflated. An inkling of what they were trying to convey had doubtlessly begun to take hold in his mind. 

In the silence as they waited, he finally gave a gusty sigh. “I fixated on just one method,” he said, as if finally realizing, “when I should have been looking for another way. What was I thinking...? That was my mistake.” 

“As long as you realize now, it can be fixed,” Karna said. Dismissing his weapon, he turned to look at Chaldea’s team — resolving one issue, and turning to the next. 

Ritsuka smiled in return, nodding. Yes, it could still be fixed. They would fix it together. 

“Yes! I, Thomas Alva Edison, will invent a new way forward!” Edison pledged. “With all the power entrusted to me by the successive presidents of this nation and this gentlemanly fighting form they granted me! For AMERICA!” 

His victorious roar was cut off by the cracking sound of a gun. Hastily, he ducked as Nightingale suddenly shot in his direction. 

“Wrong! That is your illness again!” she declared. “It’s not just about America! We must heal everyone!” 

Ritsuka quickly pushed her arm down before she could start shooting again. 

“But America—” Edison started in what sounded suspiciously like a whine. 

“This is why you lost to Nikola Tesla!” Nightingale delivered a merciless, crushing blow. 

Mash gasped audibly, covering her mouth with one hand. Billy pulled down his hat to hide his expression, and Robin let out a low whistle. Ritsuka winced, and so did Karna, very faintly. Edison let out a noise like a dying cat and directly toppled over, twitching. 

“GAFU... GAFUUU!” 

“I-Is he okay? Mr. Edison, are you alive?” Doctor Roman called out. “Mash, does he still have a pulse?!” 

Nightingale’s eyebrows twitched at the keyword — ‘pulse’. “I will apply treatment immediately.” 

“That’s... that’s okay,” Ritsuka stopped her again. Physically, there was no way he could have held back a Servant, of course, and dealing with a Berserker, he almost expected to be pushed aside. But somewhere along the way, Nightingale had begun to listen to him, at least a little. Perhaps in her mind, his words were something like “a physician’s consultation,” the directions a nurse should follow — or least consider. 

Glancing over at Edison, who was still in the middle of making a full production in his suffering and shock, Ritsuka smiled a little. “Nightingale, thank you,” he said. “Your treatment... was very effective.” 

Her eyes widened, and her stance loosened. A faint smile tugged at her lips. For the first time, she looked less like a soldier in the trenches and more like ‘an angel in white’ she was popularly rumored as. 

Ritsuka meant it. Whether through her instincts or her experience with patients, Nightingale had found the correct way to get through to Edison — hitting him ruthlessly in the personal weak points of Thomas Alva Edison until he couldn’t help reacting. It was only because she repeatedly gave him a shock that he had finally started listening to them, instead of brushing away and ignoring their words as before. Together, they watched as Edison was finally able to sit up, shuddering and looking extremely pathetic, while Mash and Karna crouched around him worriedly. 

“Ah... it does look like the patient is out of danger,” Nightingale said. Holstering her gun, she clasped her hands together. “Well, then... I will leave the rest to you, Master.” 

“Leave it to us,” Ritsuka agreed.

~.~ 

It took a few more rounds to actually get through to Edison and make him understand Chaldea’s view and their goals. Seeing him surrounded by their group, unerringly pressed down by their arguments and wishes as they stepped up over and over to repeat the same things, was uncomfortable, and the impulse to step in was hard to resist. 

However… 

This was probably the right path. Or at least, it was not a wrong one. 

Edison was not someone who wished to see the world perish. The friend who had known him in life, Helena Blavatsky, had confirmed this as well. It was the opposite — he was someone who wanted to save the world with his inventions. 

So no matter how much it went against his instincts, Karna believed that letting Chaldea persuade him was the right choice. 

He hoped, at least. 

“E pluribus unum,” the woman who had introduced herself as Leonardo da Vinci, to Edison’s shock and delight, explained calmly and patiently, her translucent blue form flickering slightly, “this country has this motto. You are a state made up of many races. It is only thanks to the world as a whole that America could come to exist, and it is only together with the world that America can prosper. Which is why you too have an obligation to save the world.”

“Urgh... Mm… Yes, that… that is true,” Edison agreed. Furrowing his brows, he shook his head as if to clear away some creeping uncertainty. “You are right, of course. Of course… Even when I was developing the light bulb, the final material was… Japanese bamboo. We cannot exist in isolation.” 

As tiring as it must have been for Chaldea to repeat themselves, it could only be more frustrating for Edison — a genius, unable to rely on his intellect. 

“It’s the same for fighting the Celts,” Chaldea’s Master took over. “It’s something we can only achieve if we work together.” 

“Yes, I admit it,” Edison nodded in agreement, kneading his forehead. “It is as you say. That is the only way forward. The successive presidents granted me their power precisely because I wouldn’t be able to win alone. It’s simple logic. What was I thinking…? It seems I was wandering in a maze of foolish thoughts.”

The successive presidents… Not only their power but also a fragment of their will had been passed down to Edison, distorting his mental state. That was the cause. 

Fortunately, Edison was still himself. 

Once the dangerous circle of fixation he’d been trapped in was broken, his thoughts began to clear. He listened to Chaldea’s logic and reasoning, and understood what they were trying to convey. He could grasp now both the wish to restore humanity and the only possible path to saving this country. 

That was good. It was a relief. 

“Okay! Then let’s take a break here! We took the hardest step forward, and I think we all need a break,” the man called Doctor Roman said loudly. He didn’t appear within the range of the hologram, but Da Vinci turned to look to the side as something only she could see and nodded in agreement.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Master Fujimaru Ritsuka said. Hesitating a bit, he added, “Do you… need to tell the guards anything?” 

They had been talking for a long time, after fighting their way in. To the ordinary people of Denver, it could only be a tense, uncertain situation. That was something great leaders and heroes forgot easily at times. How like a human to remember… He was a good Master and a good person, Karna thought. 

Yes, it was a good choice. 

“Ah, right! I will let them know to stand down,” Edison agreed. 

Pushing himself up to his feet, he made his way over to a communication device that had a general similarity to a radio and began to issue some orders. It was a cue for the others as well. A certain tension finally eased, and the would-be intruders broke apart into smaller groups, stretching, groaning and chatting quietly. 

Fujimaru checked first on the Berserker Nightingale, then on the Demi Servant girl. They stood close together, in a conversation full of smiles, somewhere between young friends and Master and Servant. The two Archers who had remained silent throughout the negotiations finally relaxed their guard, their hands drifting away from their weapons, and settled on some rubble, sharing a cigarette. Noticing Karna’s gaze sweeping the room, Lord Rama grinned and waved. 

To think the legendary king would manifest in a form like that. But there was a certain charm to his bright, burning spirit. If anything, it was a bit regrettable that their match had been overshadowed by the circumstances. 

Karna smiled back faintly and turned away — only to freeze in surprise. 

There was a woman standing in the shadow of a half-broken wall. Meeting Karna’s gaze, she raised her eyebrows with clear amusement. 

He had no idea when she had appeared or from where, or which side she belonged to. To completely evade his senses, even an Assassin would find it difficult. What kind of warrior was she? Even motionless and without a trace of harmful intent, her presence was no less than some gods. 

The two of them stared at each other for several long moments, before Fujimaru called out suddenly, “Scathach! You’re here too! Were you watching the whole time?” 

...Ah. She was with them. 

“I was,” Scathach said, looking away from Karna but not without a last faint smirk. “To think you would be able to succeed in this kind of feat — I was right to place my bet on you. Humans… certainly have their ways.” 

In their corner, the two Archers exchanged a look. 

Fujimaru only laughed and said, “No, it was only possible because Edison was willing to listen…” 

Shaking his head, Karna left them to it. 

The command structure of Denver’s castle was very efficient, and it would have taken only one call for Edison to update the guards, the officers, and the other staff of the situation. Indeed, Edison was already done when Karna approached and only stood silently, arms crossed and eyes closed, sorting out his thoughts. 

“Edison,” Karna spoke up, drawing his attention. 

“Hrm? Oh, Karna,” Edison blinked, coming back to himself. “Good, good, just the man I wanted to see. I owe you an apology.” 

“Ah?” Of all the things Karna had expected, that was not one of them. In fact... “No, I am the one who came to apologize.” 

“Whatever for? I put you through so much trouble even though you answered my pleas for help,” Edison said. “I’m truly sorry, my friend. I should have opened my eyes sooner.” 

Receiving an apology left Karna somewhat uncertain, much less being so directly declared a friend. However, he could not reject someone’s earnest feelings either. “I don’t think you need to apologize, but if it eases your mind, I forgive you,” he responded. Feeling a certain measure of concern, he felt compelled to add, “You do not need to dwell on regrets and past mistakes. Even though you committed some evil acts, your aims have been admirable from the start. That is something you can take pride in.”

“Taking pride in my aims...” Edison sighed. “Those are kind words. But they cannot erase the mistakes I made. In my life, I was proud of the fact that I sought to bring prosperity to all people and did not invent weapons that could kill. Even in the war, I only created defenses. To protect this country, I threw away that pledge, and yet what did I accomplish even with the sacrifices of the people...?” He sighed again. “Truly, I cannot thank you and Chaldea enough for stopping me from going even further.” 

“If it helped, then I am glad. I must apologize too, for going against my vow to you,” Karna said. “It was with good intentions, but even so, I broke my word.” 

Edison laughed. “I’ll forgive you too, my friend! And ask that you do it again, if I start to lose my senses once more! I’ll be counting on you!” 

Nodding, Karna accepted his request. He couldn’t reject it — even though, in truth, it was a little uncomfortable. Deciding when another person had ‘lost their way’ was difficult. He had always sought to accept the choices of others without passing judgement. In a way, this request would go directly against his nature. 

Constantly second guessing your choices, trying to decide what was too far and what was right, it was harsh and difficult. 

...This was how humans lived. 

That they continued to struggle onward despite facing this burden every day made Karna feel warmth and pride all over again. 

He would not regret either. The thoughts he had been suppressing — Would it have been better if he had chosen this path in the past as well? Could he have eased his old friend’s burden if he had only spoken out? Could something of that brutal war have been changed? — were meaningless now. 

Whether something could have been changed or made better was impossible to tell. The people and the situation had been different back then. Perhaps it would have even become worse, if he had carelessly broken his loyalty to Duryodhana. Would he have even been able to explain himself, poor as he always was with words and making himself understood? Would his reasons have been accepted? 

To begin with, the him of the past could not have countenanced this choice. 

He had done what he could back then. And he would do what he could now. It was simply that the range of his knowledge, his abilities and his choices had expanded. 

To think he could still continue to grow and change even after his life had come to an end. The existence of a Heroic Spirit was truly miraculous. 

“Alright! With everyone’s support, I feel assured!” Edison declared. “Then it’s time to get to it — figure out a way to defeat the Celts and save the world!” With a small, sneering smirk, he added, “I won’t lose to that hysteric!” 

Karna ignored that. 

Some things you could only accept, in the end. 

~.~.

**Notes:**

-I didn’t look too closely into what exactly went down with the light bulb in real life. In this case, I’m drawing more from Edison’s Bond 10 CE “Lights of Civilization,” which says he tried at least 8,000 materials when inventing the light bulb. (You can tell Edison is unloved because I couldn’t find the official NA translation of the CE text on the wikis.) 

-Edison being against violence and making weapons is taken from Wikipedia. 

-It is only now that I am combing through the canon dialogue to cannibalize it that I see the many parallels going on with various characters. Like Edison being made into a king by the will of the presidents (described as a  _ grudge  _ by Romani, no less) and Cu being made into a king by Medb’s will, I didn’t originally notice that at all. 

-(Tbh I don’t feel most of these parallels and themes were executed well. But at least I can see what they were trying to do.)

~.~


	16. Catch Me If You Can (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 16: Catch Me If You Can**

Indian heroes really lived up to their legends, Helena thought with an internal sigh. There was a reason she’d been so fascinated with that country while alive, after all. Karna alone was already impressive enough, but it appeared that Arjuna was also appropriately extreme in his capabilities. 

She had never exactly thought she could beat him, but to be defeated so easily was a little depressing. 

Not only had he noticed her Sanat Kumara’s approach far overhead, but he had even shot it down with just one arrow, before she could even start her attack. 

And then, to add insult to injury, he had even caught her — and also Colonel Olcott! — as she tumbled through the air among the dissolving debris. She could have caught herself before meeting the ground in a painful way, probably, but that was a surprisingly considerate move for a kidnapping villain. 

This consideration did not extend to carrying her in some way more dignified than under his arm like a rolled up carpet. 

The disappointed, unimpressed look he gave her was also quite annoying. 

They had landed a ways from the abandoned mill house Arjuna had taken over, and as they approached, a torturously unpleasant noise grew louder. 

_ “I am the per... p-p-p-per... perfectest emperOR~!”  _

_ “Bloody, bloody, nice and bloody~! Hyper Idol ShowTIME~!” _

‘As I expected,’ Helena thought, ‘Bathory and Nero are fine.’ 

That had been the other reason behind her decision to go instead of Karna. She couldn’t guess at Arjuna’s character, but if his only goal had been to gain their attention, he could have just killed Elisabeth. Instead, he had taken off with her, even though keeping a Servant hostage was a risky proposition at best. 

It was still a gamble, of course, but it seemed to have paid off. 

With both hands occupied, one arm with Helena herself, the other hand with her doll, Arjuna kicked open the door to the mill. It was hardly necessary, the poor thing hadn’t even been shut all the way, and it creaked piteously as it was thrown open, but his poor mood needed to be expressed somehow. 

Elisabeth and Nero paused in their murderous duet to look at Arjuna — along with a third girl with bright red hair. Unlike the other two, she was… not hanging from a ceiling beam by a rope. 

...Why were they hanging like? What was even the point? It was just rope. Even a weak chicken Caster could break that without a second thought. 

“Welcome back,” the red haired girl said with unsuitable mildness. 

“Another one, huh?” Elisabeth noted. “You’re pretty dedicated to raising your villain level!” 

Arjuna shot her a glower, but Elisabeth only sneered back, unintimidated. Given her personality, this was probably an exchange that had taken place several times already. Arjuna didn’t bother responding any further, only dumping Helena onto the dusty floor and grabbing another rope. 

“You’re not hanging me up there,” she told him, immediately skittering back a few steps. “I’ll break out right away, just wait and see.” 

“Fine, then sit with Lady Sita,” Arjuna shot back immediately, his tone a little dead. The ‘I don’t care’ was extremely clear. 

“Hey! How come she gets to sit!” Elisabeth protested, kicking her legs furiously and making herself sway back and forth. 

“Indeed! This is just favoritism! Do you have such low integrity, scoundrel?” Nero joined in, probably feeling left out. 

“You’re the one who insisted on being tied up!” Arjuna forced out between gritted teeth. 

Turning on his heel, he tried to storm off, but halfway to the door, he realized something and was forced to turn back. That something was the mechanical Colonel Olcott still in his hand. With a dark look on his face, Arjuna threw it directly at Helena — and finished his dramatic exit. 

Unexpectedly, Arjuna was actually this kind of pushover. 

The mechanical doll Helena used as a familiar had been too damaged to float on its own as it usually did, so she could only tuck it into one of the large pockets of her coat. 

“What’s with him?” Elisabeth wondered without an ounce of self-awareness. 

A Caster’s senses couldn’t match up to an Archer or an Assassin, but Helena could still clearly hear and sense Arjuna quickly putting considerable distance between himself and the mill house. Not far enough that he would be unable to keep watch, but certainly far enough that he wouldn’t be able to listen in on any conversations or tell the details of their movements. 

If there had been even the slightest possibility that she had done it on purpose, Helena would have complimented Elisabeth on her psychological warfare skills. 

“Ahem!” the forgotten Nero cleared her throat very pointedly. Sticking up her chin and smirking down at Helena, she tried to project an arrogant aura — which was totally ruined by her position. “So it seems you have suffered the same fate, Blavatsky! Your Western America is facing quite a crisis!” 

Helena glanced at her... and then looked away without replying.

“Guh!” Nero let out a choked sound of disbelief, but that too was ignored. 

“He said you are Lady Sita,” Helena noted instead, looking to the red haired who had remained calmly on the sidelines. “Are you that Sita, of the Ramayana?” 

“That’s right. I am Lord Rama’s wife, Sita,” she confirmed with a smile. 

“I see. Then let me confirm something else,” Helena said. “Are you Arjuna’s ally?” 

She couldn’t imagine why that would be the case. Arjuna’s intentions appeared to be purely in the name of challenging Karna once more, a personal quest with no connection to the Ramayana or anyone from that era. However, no matter how well she knew their legends, Heroic Spirits were people whose lives and motives were unknown to her, in the end. It was never safe to assume. 

Sita’s eyes had widened in surprise, but she responded easily. “Oh, no,” she said. “I was also just brought along.” 

“Yeah!” Elisabeth chimed in quickly. “She’s a hostage too! This guy is a total scumbag! Look how many girls he’s abducted!” 

Helena ignored her. 

That answer... had been rather ambiguous. And in a way, Elisabeth and Nero had been right — the treatment appeared rather preferential. Most likely, there was some additional layer to the relationship between Arjuna and Sita. 

However. They were probably not allies as such. 

At the very least, she was willing to take another gamble on that. 

Helena smiled brightly, as if flipping a switch on one of Edison’s light bulbs. “In~ that~ case~!” she trilled. “Let’s work together to escape!” 

With a snap of her fingers, the ropes snapped, dropping Elisabeth and Nero to the ground. Both landed in the dirt rather gracelessly in their surprise and blinked up at her as if they couldn’t comprehend the words she’d just said. 

“You want to try to escape?” Sita asked. 

“What’s wrong with that?” Helena wondered. “It’s true that he’s much stronger than any of us individually, but that doesn’t mean he can keep all of us hostage if we work together. Doesn’t that make the most sense?” 

“I never considered that,” Sita said honestly. With a deeply considering expression, she raised one hand to her chin. “It seems very strange. Shouldn’t we wait to be rescued?” 

“That does seem really strange. I’ve never heard of that,” Elisabeth agreed. “A proper lady should wait to be rescued, and plead with the hero when he arrives while crying tender tears.” 

“Hmm... But it has a certain appeal, doesn’t it?” Nero said. “It’s very... modern.” 

“That’s right, just waiting like a damsel in distress is too old-fashioned,” Helena said. It was also ridiculous. They weren’t actual young girls. However, she didn’t say that part. “Modern girls take matters in their own hands! Who would we even be waiting for? I’m not interested in being a pawn to some old grudge I’m not even part of.” 

“Well, I’m waiting for my husband,” Sita said. Helena could not parse her tone, whether it was simply matter of fact or if there was some kind of subtle mocking hidden underneath. However, Sita did not press the matter. Smiling, she went on, “But if it is the modern way, I suppose I shall try it as well. I’ve been learning many new things recently.” 

She stood, dusting herself off, and turned to Helena — awaiting instructions. 

“Fufufu, very well! I shall also participate!” Nero said, also rising to her feet. Throwing aside the slackened rope that had been tied around her, she put her hands on her hips and proudly thrust out her chest. “Rejoine! With the Flower of Olympia beside you, victory is in your grasp!” 

The last member of their little group looked between them with an uncertain frown. “You... can just do that?” Elisabeth wondered. “Just break out if someone locks you up?” 

“Of course,” Helena said firmly. “We’re Servants, after all. We’re not easy to keep locked up.” 

“Right... right, of course!” she brightened, finally jumping up. “Let’s show that villain he can’t mess with us!” 

They were... not going to be able to do that, realistic speaking. But they didn’t need to just sit around either. 

This Singularity would not last much longer. She knew it from the intelligence reports and from her own intuition. If the Western Army continued as they had been, they would have maybe a month left, if that. But it wouldn’t continue like that — there was the resistance and Chaldea, and there were the Celts too. They would be able to sense the same thing, and they would make their move. 

It wouldn’t even be weeks before the end. It was likely only days before every side began to make their final moves. The entire playing field would be changing rapidly. 

A passive strategy like drawing out an opponent using hostages wouldn’t last. 

There was a chance that Edison and Karna would decide to prioritize taking down Arjuna in order to get Helena, Elisabeth and Nero back before mounting some final defense against the Celts. However, it was unlikely. The benefits —Helena’s comparatively weak powers as a Servant, Elisabeth and Nero who had refused to participate in combat at all — were simply too low compared to the risks — Arjuna who would at the very least do heavy damage to Karna, at worst even taking him down. 

Considering everything logically, the most likely outcome was that Karna would be sent out to the front lines once the Celts made their last push, and Arjuna would abandon the lot of them to intercept him there. 

With this in mind, Helena had insisted on going with the understanding she would probably be captured as well — and accepted it as a necessary stalling tactic. Causing some trouble as a hostage was the same. 

If they could give Arjuna the runaround for a few more days... That would be enough. 

“First, tell me how you got caught,” Helena said, “and what you can do...” 

~.~

Arjuna had not gone too far, just to a bluff that gave an overview of the surrounding area, but it was enough that — as Helena had guessed — he could not hear the conversations or track the movements inside. 

In part, it was because he had grown somewhat complacent given the lack of any escape attempts until then. In part, it was simply because he didn’t believe it mattered. As a Servant, he was clearly much stronger. What could they do, really? 

The truth was... there wasn’t much. 

Even after gathering all the information, going over every detail, and agonizing over it, the best Helena could come up with was a very simple, straightforward plan.

—Run in four different directions. 

There was, after all, only one of him. 

When a wall of the mill house suddenly blew open and four figures darted out, their paths immediately diverging but all heading away from him, Arjuna could only stare in surprise for a moment. Then, he palmed his face and thought, ‘What if I just let them go?’ 

He couldn’t do that. He had a plan, and giving up now would make all of his prior efforts useless. 

However, he didn’t really need three hostages to begin with — and Sita had always been free to do as she wished, even if he hadn’t been willing to just admit it. 

Those two horribly loud ones, it was fine to write them off. 

And that left only one target to pursue. 

Perhaps because she had somewhat anticipated his thought process, Helena had chosen a path almost directly away from him, which also happened to lead her along the dried out stream the mill house had been built on, toward a still running branch of the Platte River that passed through Kearney. The dry streambed wouldn’t help her much, but the area closer to the river was dotted with trees, and if she jumped into the water, it would help conceal and carry her to some extent. 

Shooting her from a distance would not be an optimal choice. No matter how good his aim, Arjuna couldn’t guarantee that he would knock her out without killing her. Jumping down from his vantage point, he took off in pursuit on foot. 

Despite her head start, it would have been easy for him to catch up. However... 

It had been so boring, just sitting and waiting. 

Even if the difference in their stats made the outcome predetermined, this was still the most excitement he’d had in days. Since she had just come, no one else from the United Western States would be dispatched for a while, so there was no need to rush. 

A hunt would at least keep him occupied, as long as he held back. 

...Ah. He was making an unsightly face again. 

Even as he habitually raised one hand to cover his mouth and hide his expression, Arjuna didn't change his plans or speed up his pursuit, incrementally closing in on Helena's fleeing figure. 

'Let's see how you entertain me...' 

In fact, he was quite heavily underestimating Helena Blavatsky. As the founder of Theosophy, she had gained the ability to use a wide range of magic, from ancient Egyptian rituals to even the Church's Baptism rites. In the hands of a genius, the possibilities were endless. It was just that she herself was not entirely accustomed to all the knowledge now at her fingertips. 

However, necessity was the mother of invention. 

As Arjuna had anticipated, she followed the dry stream toward the river and the sparse treeline surrounding it. The distance between them had shrunk considerably now, and Helena turned just enough to throw a quick barrage of single action spells over her shoulder, with little intention except to slow Arjuna for a fraction of a second. 

Not through damage, of course. Magic of that level couldn't hope to penetrate his resistance. Instead, the spells exploded into bursts of light and clouds of dust. Unconcerned but mildly annoyed at the filth clinging to his white outfit, Arjuna momentarily jumped and shot off several arrows, not at Helena but just close enough to make her stumble. 

She let out a startled, unhappy shriek, throwing her arms up over her head against the sudden showers of dirt, but didn't stop running. The first trees were just up ahead. It wouldn't be much further... 

For the next spell, she had used a longer aria. As she passed the treeline, her grimoire appeared floating beside her and, with a sharp gesture, a stream of glowing arcane symbols flowed out of it and between the tree trunks. The trees shook as if in a strong wind, engulfing everything in a leaf blizzard. 

It was enough to make even Arjuna pause. Helena’s figure just ahead vanished among the flying leaves, and the entire forest took on a floating, unreachable quality. When he looked behind him, the view of tree trunks and slanted sunlight between them was exactly the same, even though he had only just entered the grove. He took a few steps forward and was immediately engulfed in a dizzying sensation of swaying as if at sea.  _ Something  _ whispered and giggled, there and gone again. 

An illusion spell for creating a maze, and of a fairly high rank despite being generated on the fly. 

“Not bad...” Arjuna judged, smirking lightly. “But not good enough!” 

Drawing back an arrow and filling it with magical energy, he pointed Gandiva toward the sky. Eyes closed, he released the bowstring — then pulled it back again in the same instance, once, twice, over and over again, until glowing bolts rained down around him like a meteor showed. 

The places where they struck wavered and solidified, the illusion disrupted by the energy released, the area becoming pinned down. And with enough anchors holding it in place, the spell could only struggle and strain momentarily before finally stretching too far and collapsing. 

Helena’s magical energy dispersed, leaving only trees once more. Looking around with a faint sense of satisfaction, Arjuna began to move forward once more. 

She had continued running toward the river and, reaching it, plunged in until the water was to her knees. Even when Arjuna emerged onto the bank, she didn’t stop the rapid incantations she was chanting, a great deal of energy swirling around her. 

...It didn’t seem very interesting to shoot her when she wasn’t even paying attention. 

He had just started to enjoy himself a little. 

“Running was pointless, you know,” Arjuna called out instead, approaching slowly. “Now, what should we do? Will you come on your own, or shall I force you?” 

Two beats. Then, completing her incantation, Helena turned and sneered. 

“You’re quite an annoying brat, aren’t you?” she declared fearlessly, her unexpected direction making Arjuna momentarily freeze in shock. “You want to try and make me go back? Very well! If you insist, then I’ll show you what Mahatma has taught me! O Lemuria that slumbers in the seas—” 

Arjuna’s expression cracked, twisting as he couldn’t decide between scowling and mocking her. “You—!” 

“—Heed my call! Awaken and swallow my enemy!” 

It was not a Noble Phantasm, but it was not a low rank spell either. Invoking the name and Mystic of the mystical lost city, magical energy spread through the river, making it momentarily glow. 

The water abruptly receded, leaving the riverbed dry like a low tide. With a deafening roar, it returned in the next moment as a massive wave bearing down on them. 

“This is payback for messing with me!” Helena yelled, barely audible. 

She would have been engulfed as well, but grabbing hold of her floating grimoire, she rode it up into the air. As a mage, she considered a magic tome to be nearly sacred, so standing on it was out of the question, but clinging to it like plank out at sea could be allowed. 

Belatedly, Arjuna also tried to leap away, but he instinctively knew it wouldn’t work. He was the target, after all — the ‘enemy’ the wave had come to swallow. 

Glaring at the last glimpse he had of Helena, he tried to convey that he would absolutely, definitely get her for this. 

Then, the wave crashed over him, and water closed over his head, dragging him away. 

~.~

As a Servant, it wasn’t really possible for Arjuna to drown, and he could already tell that while powerful, the spell wouldn’t be able to do something truly dangerous like teleporting him into the depths of the ocean. Eyes closed and face stonily blank, he let himself be carried away, tossed about like a piece of debris. 

When he finally surfaced, hair plastered to his head and clothes entirely soaked through, the corner of his lips twitched up and he laughed joylessly. 

“Kekeke... Well then,” he muttered. “If that’s how you wish to play...” 

At least no one had seen that. 

No one except that Caster... but she wouldn’t live long enough to talk. 

With that murderous determination in mind, Arjuna vanished from the river. 

~.~

**Notes:**

-I was tempted to call this chapter Arjuna’s Angels, but I did not have the guts to actually do it. 

-Every single person who meets Arjuna: What a little shit

-(There are no exceptions, but some like Sita think it fondly.) (I lie. Krishna is the exception.) 

-I originally intended the Chaldea section before this to be longer and cover them making their usual plan with the two fronts, but I felt it would be pretty redundant. There’s not really any character scenes left to go with the planning, so we’re just skipping over to this disaster. 

~.~


	17. Rebel Without a Cause (Sita)

**Chapter 17: Rebel Without a Cause**

Sita had fled the mill house at the same speed as the others, but gradually her pace slowed. 

In fact, she could have run faster from the start. Her parameters were the same as Rama’s, a top-tier Servant, and if her heart had been in it, she could have even fought Arjuna directly — the difference between them was only in experience and mindset. It was just that she had never chosen to fight. 

Fighting, running, there was no reason for her to do that. Even if she went to where Rama was, she was certain she wouldn’t be able to see him. Whether some great misfortune would befall her along the way, or whether her existence would unravel just as she approached him, the curse would ensure that they would not meet. 

Running away just now was just playing along with the others. But now that they had gone their separate ways, the excitement faded. 

Eventually, Sita came to a stop. Sitting down in the shade of a solitary tree, she looked up at the clear sky. 

Now then, should she just wait? 

...Would anyone come? 

She knew clearly that Arjuna’s only goal was Karna, and everything about fighting Rama had been just covering up his pride. Perhaps he would remember to come looking, but perhaps he would see it as an excuse to let her go. And Rama... 

With the fate of the world at stake, Rama would surely be fighting. She knew his righteous heart — he would not put looking for her above humanity’s future. 

There was no one to wait for. 

Then what was she to do? 

Closing her eyes, Sita leaned back against the tree trunk. She had always followed and waited. That had been her choice and the life she had wanted — supporting others, being their silent strength and anchor. And she didn’t think it had been a mistake. She didn’t regret it. 

Perhaps it was ‘modern’ to rescue yourself, but in the past, it wouldn’t have been possible for her. She had never fought, nor had the power to do so, especially against the immortal Ravana. If she had struggled against him when he took her, she would have quite likely lost her life. 

Instead of leaving Rama to mourn her, she had believed in him and waited, enduring everything with silent resolve. 

But this was no longer the same story of long ago. 

Lord Rama could not save her from the curse. There was no one to wait for anymore. And Sita herself was a Servant now, with the power to fight. 

But if she chose to fight... What was she to fight for, and against whom? 

It was a choice she had never made. Even all her efforts to do so in this Singularity had left her more uncertain. ‘I want to see Lord Rama again,’ she had thought, and decided to fight for that wish, even if it meant becoming his enemy. But even when she decided, she had been terrified. 

What if she had hurt him? What if she had  _ killed  _ him? They were Heroic Spirits, who were beyond death now, but could she have truly lived with herself after that? 

It was good that Arjuna had stopped her. Looking back on it now, she was glad. The person she would have become if she had done that was someone she didn’t want to be. 

She still wanted to fight. In this new existence, far beyond her original life, she wanted to move forward and use the power she had gained. However, if she didn’t want to use it for her own selfish wish, what would be her purpose and her opponent? 

She lacked a Master to anchor her and give her loyalty to. Then, should she fight the same enemies as Lord Rama, the Celts who threatened the Foundation of Humanity? Should she protect the ordinary people of this era? 

Or... 

_ ‘I will face Karna. I’m afraid, Lady Sita, you will have to accompany me in this.’ _

There was that, wasn’t there? From the start, hadn’t she decided to accompany Arjuna? There was something she owed him, for stopping her back then, for his clumsy attempts at kindness. He didn’t need her help and would not thank her for any such thing, but... 

It felt like he was also wavering, uncertain of his path forward, just like her. 

It felt like there was a meaning in accompanying him. An answer... or perhaps something she still had to do. 

The sky had long grown dark while she ruminated. It stretched out far overhead, the strange circle of light blotting out most of the stars. The flat plains all around her felt even emptier at night, and Sita couldn’t help clasping her hands together tightly for some sense of comfort. 

She was not a person who liked to be alone. Solitude and separation were more terrifying than suffering or death. 

There was no one here, so there was no reason for her to remain. 

Standing, Sita dusted off her skirt for the last time and let the scavenged dress dissolve into her battle attire — longer, darker and a little closer to Rama’s clothing. 

Unseen by anyone, she disappeared into the night. 

~.~

However, even with her decision made, Sita found herself facing a simple but inescapable obstacle. 

She didn’t know where to look. In this vast land, it was difficult for one person to find another without any clues or even a direction to search in. She retraced her steps back to the abandoned mill house and then in the direction Helena had run, but there was no sign of her or Arjuna in the vicinity. 

It would have been helpful if Arjuna blew up another mountain. Well, if he started a battle, as long as she was anywhere in the vicinity, she wouldn’t be able to miss it. 

But for the matter of being ‘in the vicinity,’ Sita could only rely on fate. 

‘...Hm?’ 

After traveling for some time, she noticed something that made her pause. This far into United Western States territory, there were few monsters or roving Celtic warriors, and mechanized infantry patrols were also uncommon. The flat plains were entirely empty, so the lone figure walking in the distance immediately caught her eye. 

It was a Servant. The man was too far for Sita to sense the distinctive presence of a Spirit Origin and body made from magical energy, but there was nothing else he could be — bare footed, bare chested, and with muscles thicker than most armor. An ordinary man wouldn’t walk so calmly, much less alone, in the middle of the bizarre war this era had been thrust into. 

The only question was which side, if any, he belonged to. 

He was not Arjuna, much less Lord Rama, so it didn’t really have anything to do with her...

But. 

Sita glanced back in the direction of Kearney, full of ordinary people struggling to survive. She remembered the caravan, the young mother who had told her about the husband she was waiting for, who had gone off to fight but would surely, surely return, the grandmother who had patted her hand and assured her that God would guide them through and that she would see her family again, all those that had welcomed them and helped them — even if they, Servants beyond the grasp of life and death, had not needed it. 

If a Celtic Servant reached the city, then those people would die. 

She had already decided to make use of her power, and she couldn’t just look away. Nodding to herself, Sita began to approach. 

The man noticed her before long. He was clearly not an Archer and probably not a Caster, but he must have been experienced and skilled in observation. Seeing her coming closer, he didn’t rush in and only waited with a smile. 

“Hehe, it must be my lucky day, for a beauty like you to appear in front of me!” he called out when Sita came to a stop, close enough to speak but far enough to flee. However, his jovial expression darkened after a moment. “It’s really too bad... Normally, I would have happily hit on you at this point. But things are complicated now. Instead, I’m going to kill you.” 

“Oh, my...” Sita said mildly. “Then, are you part of the Celtic forces?” 

“That’s right. My name is Fergus. I once earned my keep as a Knight of the Red Branch,” the man introduced himself, grinning and slapping his bare chest. “If you want someone to resent, you have only me. I'm doing this entirely for myself, after all. I'll cut you down just because I want to.”

His stance shifted, and a massive weapon appeared in his hands. Listening to his speech, Sita nodded along — not in agreement, but simply in acknowledgement. 

“I am Sita, Queen of Kosala,” she replied. “There are still things I want to do in this era, so I will have to decline.”

Fergus laughed somewhat dryly. “If only it was so simple, your majesty. On my way here, I cut down six other Servants. So you'll be my seventh victim.”

“That is unfortunate. But even so, I must decline.” 

This answer was obviously not appropriate to the situation, and Fergus regarded her blankly for several long moments. Finally, he let out a deep sigh. “Come to think of it, I remember something about Fionn bringing in a prisoner, a hero from India. Was that you? You... have you ever fought before?” 

A brief scuffle against Arjuna. A short battle with some monsters. But in the end, Sita had to admit, “Not as such.” 

“...I see,” Fergus said. “Then I’ll try to make this quick.” 

Despite boldly claiming he was doing this because he wanted to and telling her to resent him, there was an unspoken apology in his words. This kind of talk had become familiar to Sita recently — covering uncertainties and regrets with ‘this is what I chose,’ as if that choice wasn’t a weak, desperate thing. It really was a little sad to see from the outside. 

Swinging his great sword — probably — Fergus charged at her with full speed. However, Sita jumped back just as quickly, her bow appearing in her hand. 

In terms of speed, she could tell she was faster. If she turned and ran, he wouldn’t be able to catch her. No, more importantly, she could maintain a distance between them to give herself the advantage. With this in mind, Sita jumped back further and materialized several arrows. 

She had thought she chose her timing well — no matter how skillfully wielded, a large weapon like the one in Fergus’s hands took time to reposition after a swing. Using that opening, she released several bolts in quick succession. But to her surprise, Fergus only smiled as he raised his head and neatly weaved between them all. 

Mind’s Eye, the skill of reading a battle that comes from pure experience. 

“It won’t be that simple, beautiful!” he called out. Laughing, he launched himself toward her again. 

Sita tried to back away, dodging the next swing, but she stumbled upon landing, the ground beneath her feet cracking open from Fergus’s attack. Falling down with a startled exclamation, Sita looked up just in time to see her opponent bearing down on her. 

“Lord Rama, guide me—” Sita prayed, her voice lost in the chaos. 

And for a moment, everything became clear to her. 

There wasn’t enough time to escape, but she was still faster. Switching her grip on her bow, she ducked aside and darted forward instead. The spiral sword bore past her slight figure, while Sita swung her bow — straight into Fergus’s shocked face, where its broadest part nailed him directly between the eyes. 

Using the counterforce of the swing to launch herself into the air, Sita twisted around to shoot an arrow at his unprotected back. Even though Fergus recovered enough to frantically dodge, it still grazed his shoulder, leaving a streak of red. 

Sita touched down only clumsily and quickly scrambled away, the momentary trance already fading. 

It had felt like Lord Rama. The existence that was intertwined with hers had guided her hand. 

“Hahaha... I underestimated you,” Fergus said, turning to face her. “That’s good, that’s good. Now that it’s like this, I'm getting fired up! Then how’s this—!” 

Remembering her previous experience, Sita retreated quickly before he could attack, but something was different this time. Even accounting for the destruction that would spread out across the ground, he was too far to do anything to her. And the magical energy that suddenly surged through him had to be... 

Noble Phantasm. 

Urgently, Sita raised her bow and pulled back a single arrow. 

“Feast your eyes on a true rainbow—!”

“This is the bow of Lord Shiva himself—!”

A brilliant, multi-colored light spread out from the sword as it plunged into the earth, spinning like a drill. The ground crumbled, but the true force of the Noble Phantasm was the rush of energy that burst forth from beneath. Sita leaped as high as she could, trying to escape at least long enough to unleash her own attack. The arrow in her hand shined like a star as it was released, plunging downward. 

_ “Caladbolg!” _

_ “Haradhanu Janaka!” _

Fergus staggered back with a grunt. Sita was swept away with a scream. Everything vanished into blinding light. 

The chaotic whirlpool of magical energy slowly faded and dispersed, revealing a cracked and overturned landscape. Sita had been flung to the far outer edges of the destruction, and she picked herself up gingerly, her entire body aching. Dirt and entire clumps of earth slid off her as she climbed to her knees and then her feet. Absently, she fluffed her skirt in a futile attempt to clean off the dust. 

She had been some distance from Fergus to begin with, and she had jumped away even further, so she had fortunately made it through with a wide array of bruises and scrapes but no serious injuries. If necessary, she could still fight, she decided after carefully testing her limbs. 

This body... was quite tough. 

‘Thank you, Lord Rama,’ Sita thought, placing one hand lightly over her heart. 

After all, it was his power that she was able to wield now, the legacy of his efforts and his great legend. 

Picking her way through the rubble, Sita began to search for her opponent. It had been hard to tell what was happening toward the end, but she felt certain that her own last attack had hit its target. For Fergus to not have reappeared even after all this time... Did that mean it was over? 

Noble Phantasms varied greatly in their purpose and abilities, but those intended for combat were all attacks that could at the very least turn the tide of battle if not finish it completely. If her arrow had pierced him, it would not be surprising for that to be the end. Even so, even Sita knew she couldn’t let her guard down just yet. 

Finally, she stopped, staring in surprise. 

Caladbolg’s destruction radiated outward evenly, but eventually the broken up ground was suddenly divided by a long, deep furrow. And at the end of the furrow was... 

“Ah,” Sita said. 

Although she instinctively knew how to activate it and its intended function, the fact was she had never used her Noble Phantasm before. And the effect had far exceeded her expectations. Lying flat on his back, half buried in the dirt after being thrown backwards by a great force was Fergus, her arrow lodged deep in his chest. 

Catching sight of her and her startled expression, he began to laugh — only to break off into heavy coughing. 

“Heheh— guh! I brought this on myself, nothing else for it!” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t have underestimated you! But dying at the hands of such a beautiful woman isn’t too bad either, hahaha!” 

Sita blinked, approaching slowly. “Dying?” she repeated. “I suppose a warrior might wish for that... But I’m not going to kill you. I’m sorry, but that is something I don’t want to do.” 

Although she had shot him square in the chest, it was on the right side. For a human, that could still be deadly, but a Servant would still recover, as long as their spiritual core, in their heart, was intact. He had taken enough damage that he couldn’t move for now, but Fergus wouldn’t die. 

“Ah...” Tipping his head back, Fergus let out a gusty sigh. “No need for apologies, your gentleness only accentuates your beauty. Since I ended up in this era, I thought I’d try again to stand next to the queen, but meeting such a splendid woman... Say, what if we—?” 

“I have a husband,” Sita said firmly, “to whom I have given my entire heart and being.” 

“Oh, a husband! No wonder Fionn gave up. But I don’t mind! If he’s in this era too, then why don’t the three of us do it together? He must be a fine man!” Fergus said instead, utterly undeterred. 

...Well. 

“Lord Rama is a righteous man. I don’t believe he would agree to that,” Sita said, taking a moment to respond. 

“Hahaha, that’s too bad! If I see him, I’ll make sure to ask,” Fergus decided. “Since you defeated me, let me give you some advice... This era won’t last much longer. The queen has already sent out her troops for the last push to bring down Western America. They won’t be able to hold out on both fronts, and once they are gone, this Singularity will collapse. If there is still something you want to do, you should do it now and not hold back. There won’t be another chance after this, you know?” 

Sita nodded. “If it’s like that, then there’s no reason for you to attack the people here any longer, right? I’d like to ask you to turn around and head back. Will you do that?” 

“The people here? So that’s why you came over toward me?” Fergus wondered. He thought for a moment, then shrugged as much as he could. “That’s fine. Since it’s a favor to a beautiful woman, I’ll head back. It’s about time for me to join with the army anyway.” 

“Then I will thank you for your advice and your cooperation,” she said, smiling. But before turning to go, she added one more thing. “Your words are very wise. I think you should consider them as well. It seems that you yourself have many regrets to settle.” 

She hurried away before Fergus could respond. His strong eyebrows rose as he stared after her quickly disappearing figure. Then, throwing his head back, he began to laugh again. 

His regrets... If only it was that simple. Unfortunately, those who had been summoned by Medb through the Holy Grail did not have the ability to disobey her commands. He didn’t have the power to do anything for Cu Chulainn either, not in the unnatural form his foster son had taken on. Just like in their legend, his role in this era was only as a supporting character. 

The best he could do was forget the useless thoughts and have a good time. 

As for the fate of humanity and everything else, he would leave it in the hands of the heroes. 

Reaching up and painstakingly pulling the arrow from his chest, Fergus chuckled. “Lord Rama, was it? I wonder which front he’ll be at...” 

Sita had said she didn’t think her husband would agree, but as long as there was a chance, Fergus was willing to give it a try. That sullen brat hadn’t been his type at all, but he had undeniably been a beauty, and Sita was stunning enough to make any man’s heart skip a beat. The heroes of India were all so good looking, Lord Rama would surely be the same. 

To miss out on a threesome with them would be a real regret! 

~.~

**Notes:**

-Sita: If I’m not the damsel in distress wife, what am I?? 

-I rearranged a lot of my original outline here. Originally, Sita decided to help Helena a bit, and then all three of them (with Arjuna) ended up running into Fergus together. I wonder if it shows. That kind of shifting around unfortunately becomes more common as we get to the end parts of the outline, haha...

-In terms of Sita’s hypothetical abilities, she is currently summoned as a reflection of Rama, of sorts. Because of that, she functions very similarly to him. Since Rama has a skill regarding his martial prowess and also a secondary NP that draws on his connection to Vishnu, Sita has an ability for drawing on her connection to Rama to make up for her own lack of background as a warrior. Or something. 

-Her NP is fairly direct single target damage, but has some additional properties for lowering attack or defense, or something of that sort. 

~.~


	18. Braveheart (Arjuna&Sita)

**Chapter 18: Braveheart**

Falling limply facedown in the dirt, Helena tried to conform herself with the thought that at least she had given Arjuna a good runaround. Avoiding settlements, changing directions at random, and making good use of Sanat Kumara to flee in a rush when he managed to catch up, she had dragged it out for several days. 

‘Edison, Karna, this is the best I can do. The rest is up to you!’ Helena thought, indulging in a bit of melodrama. 

Stamping one foot down on her battered grimoire and glaring at her with an expression prissier than even the SPR when rejecting her theories, Arjuna looked like he really might kill her, hostage plan be damned. 

Oh well. Feeling resigned to this outcome, Helena closed her eyes and turned away. 

If anything, her casual disregard made Arjuna’s foul mood darken further. His clenched fist trembled as he tried to suppress his mounting irritation — until something in the distance drew his attention. He turned, his expression smoothing out. 

“Lord Arjuna!” Sita called out as she approached swiftly. “I finally found you!” 

Fortunately, she had been close enough to spot their battle. Of course, if she hadn’t taken off for some reason, she wouldn’t have needed to look for him in the first place — Arjuna refrained from pointing this out. 

“Lady Sita,” he greeted calmly instead. “Welcome back. The other two were able to escape, but this one alone should be enough. Next, we will need to... notify the United Western States, I suppose.” He suppressed a sigh. 

“I’m not sure there is any use in that,” Sita said. “There’s something I need to tell you — I encountered a Celtic Servant. He told me their army is already moving for a final assault.” 

Arjuna stopped, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “A final assault?” 

“So they finally started,” Helena said, rolling over with a groan. “If the Celts are on the move, then our Presi-king will send out our army as well. She’s right — there isn’t any point in this game any longer. They won’t have any forces to spare for getting me.” 

She tried to keep the smugness from her tone, but judging by Arjuna’s glare, she probably didn’t succeed entirely. Shrugging internally, Helena stared back without any sense of repentance. 

What would he do? Kill her? He’d probably do that anyway. 

“You’re saying Karna will prioritize defending the frontline over... retrieving you,” Arjuna said coldly. 

‘He’ll prioritize it over you,’ Helena thought but didn’t quite have the guts to say to his face. Thinking back on Karna’s reaction back then, it wouldn’t be an easy choice for him. Perhaps that would have been comforting for Arjuna... But she definitely wouldn’t say that either. 

Gritting his teeth, Arjuna turned away. “Then you’re useless to me.” 

He didn’t lash out, the way Helena had more than half expected. He didn’t say anything else at all. 

Helena and Sita stared after him for a moment, before Sita turned to Helena and bowed her head respectfully. “It was only for a short while, but it was a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your advice, I won’t forget it,” she said, then hurried after him. 

...What advice? 

Forget it. Letting her head drop back, Helena sighed and closed her eyes. She would need to rest a bit, and then she’d make her way to the nearest outpost. If the Celts were really making their final assault, Edison and Western America would need all the help they could get. 

~.~

When Sita caught up with him, Arjuna’s expression was completely blank. However, the uneven rushed pace he kept gave away his agitation. Letting him gather his thoughts, she followed silently at a distance. 

Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder and slowed enough for her to draw even with him. 

“Will you head to the front lines?” she asked. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” Arjuna said, his tone clipped and bitter. 

“I suppose not,” she acknowledged. “But which front will you go to? He said the Celts will be attacking from two sides.” 

This new development drew a noise of disgust, and Arjuna came to a complete, somewhat abrupt stop. In retrospect, it would perhaps have been a good idea to use Helena to get the answer somehow, but going back would be... completely unacceptable. Crossing his arms, Arjuna bowed his head — obviously struggling to maintain his composure. 

“I will... obtain the information from someone in the Western army,” he said. “Once they begin to move out, the commander of each army will be easy to find out. And then I will...” He didn’t finish. Not quite managing to stifle an irritated sigh, he reached up to cover his face. 

Sita watched him struggle for a moment. “You know,” she said, “there is no fault in being angry.” 

“...Pardon?” Lowering his hand, Arjuna stared at her. 

“You can just get angry,” she repeated. “It must be frustrating. Your plan didn’t come to fruition, and your rival didn’t appear. You’re angry, aren’t you? There is no fault in that. It’s only natural.” 

“Only natural...” he sighed. “I suppose I am. I am... angry.” 

Sita nodded encouragingly. “If you want to yell, I won’t listen,” she said. 

“I don’t need to yell,” Arjuna said quickly. “I simply feel some frustration. I don’t wish to discuss it any further.” 

The silence lasted five breaths. 

“I’m not angry,” he declared suddenly, despite saying the exact opposite just before. “It’s nothing worth being angry over! It’s just that... that bastard Karna. To think he would take our battle so lightly. Take me so lightly! To place the meaningless struggles of this era over our confrontation—!” 

“It’s the battle to decide the fate of the world and humanity itself,” Sita pointed out. It was quite far from meaningless, especially to the living humans involved. 

“Hmph! If it is to perish, it shall perish,” Arjuna declared — sullenly. 

Sita did not agree with that. She was sure that Lord Rama did not either. But most importantly, “It would seem Lord Karna feels it is worth fighting for.” 

A short, sharp laugh was Arjuna’s response. “If that is so, then I will fight for its destruction,” he declared, his expression dark. “That is equality. If Karna stands with the good, then this time I shall stand with the evil. If it means finally seeing a conclusion to our battle, I will become a villain and— Guh!” 

With a startled yelp, he staggered two steps before managing to catch himself. 

Spinning around while trying to grasp at the aching spot between his shoulder blades, he stared at Sita in confusion. “L-Lady Sita!” he protested. “What was that?!” 

Sita waved her hand to dispel the faint sting from the force of her own strike. “I am repaying your favor,” she said very seriously. She ignored Arjuna’s indignant, confused expression. “Before, you stopped me by force when I had made a resolution. Do you remember? This time, I am repaying you.” 

It took him a moment to remember — when she had made the decision to fight against Rama and become his enemy, Arjuna had indeed forcefully stepped in and stopped her, while declaring himself a kidnapper and making up a nonsense excuse. 

“That... have you been carrying a grudge this entire time?” he wondered. “You said you would...” 

He cleared his throat. Sita had said she would accept his kindness, but he didn’t want to use those words. 

“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not angry,” Sita said. “I am very grateful to you. I am grateful that I met you and was able to think such a thing to begin with. The thought that ‘even if I must become hated, I will reach for my wish’ was something I could only imagine after speaking with you. It allowed me to take the first step forward, after becoming so accustomed to simply waiting. 

“But I am also grateful that you stopped me. Because you were right. Doing such a thing would be something I couldn’t take back. That’s why I want to pay it back now. Lord Arjuna, I’m going to tell you directly — don’t do that. That is wrong.” 

Arjuna’s brows twitched slightly, but his expression had become dangerously blank and cold. 

“It’s wrong, you say...” he repeated, tilting his chin down. “So even you think I’m wrong. No, it’s only natural. Of course Lady Sita would think so...” 

“Yes, I think you’re wrong,” Sita said mercilessly. “This isn’t how the two of you should fight. Is this really the kind of battle you want to have with Lord Karna? Rather than a duel between you, isn’t this just ‘a battle for the fate of the world?’ That won’t settle anything between you.” 

“You don’t understand!” Arjuna snapped. 

Sita nodded. “That may be the case,” she agreed. “After all, I am not a warrior or a king. And I don’t have any way of stopping you once you reach the battlefield. But even so, I wanted to tell you this. If you continue, you’ll be making a mistake!” 

Once a person had truly committed to a choice, they would continue to look for a way to carry through. Even if they were stopped once, they could not be stopped forever — except in death. If Sita had been determined to carry through with her decision, she would have found a way to escape and sought out Rama again. The fact that she had simply travelled with Arjuna since then was because her heart had been wavering from the start. Her choice had only been blind desperation, rushing toward the only escape she could see. 

Telling Arjuna he was wrong would be meaningless if he believed himself in the right. He would still do as he wished in the end. Moreso since Sita certainly did not have the will or ability to stop him by force. 

However, she wanted to say it. 

Because she thought... that he probably wanted someone to tell him so. 

Maybe it was only her baseless assumption, but perhaps that had been the reason he had stopped her before. An old wish, for an old regret... 

Even if someone had tried to stop him back then, perhaps he would have still done it. His reasons had not been so simple as to be dispersed with a few words. Many responsibilities and vows had driven him. But if someone  _ had at least told him... _

So she would be the one to tell him, this time. 

Raising her hand, Sita took two steps toward Arjuna — fully intent on giving him another whack to drive her point in. 

With a startled, unhappy hiss, Arjuna jumped back and held his arms up defensively. “I understand! I understand already!” he complained with a furious glare. 

“Oh!” Sita smiled, relaxing. “Then I won’t say anything else.” Her expression softened, and she backed away, letting Arjuna finally let out a breath of relief. However, once he no longer needed to watch for an ‘attack’, he remembered his aggravation with her words and shot her a cold look, before pointedly looking away. 

She hadn’t expected him to be happy, so his reaction didn’t bother her. However, thinking how they would be parting ways now, Sita smiled a little sadly. As Heroic Spirits who did not share an origin or any connection, they were unlikely to meet again. However, she wouldn’t forget him, or her gratitude, and she didn’t want to part on bad terms. At the very least, she wanted to say something a little softer. 

“After this... Lord Rama will surely also fight to protect the people of this era and the world. And I will too,” she said. “I won’t be able to fight beside him, but perhaps I will be able to help a little before I am forced away by the curse. So this will be goodbye. I enjoyed our travels together. Thank you, Lord Arjuna.” 

She didn’t need a response from Arjuna, so she didn’t intend to wait for one. There was no reason for him to stop her, after all. 

But before Sita could turn to go, Arjuna unexpectedly spoke up. 

“You’re going to the battlefield?” he asked, still refusing to look at her. His tone was unreadable as well. 

“That’s right,” Sita said, a note of curiosity in her voice. It went without saying that they would not go together. Their goals were not the same, and Rama and Karna were unlikely to be in the same place. 

“Can you even fight?” 

“Well, at least a little.” She could certainly match monsters or even Shadow Servants, and she had managed to defeat Fergus as well. 

She waited for a long moment, but there were no other questions and no explanation. 

Arjuna’s shoulders moved up and down in a silent sigh. “You should rest first before heading out,” he said — commanded really, making Sita’s eyebrows rise slightly. It was a kind of aloof tone he had never taken with her before, though it was certainly suited to a divine-blooded king. “It’s almost night, in any case. I will meditate, so don’t disturb me.” 

He didn’t wait for her response before taking off. Fortunately, Sita didn’t mind. Chuckling to herself, she hid a smile. 

Between them, he was the one who had run around frantically and fought just beforehand, and she could guess easily that he wasn’t really going off to meditate. That left the question of what he actually intended, but Sita had a certain suspicion in mind. 

He really... needed to get better at expressing his feelings. 

~.~ 

As Arjuna had said, it had been reasonably close to dusk, so Sita had prepared a camp — clearing off an area, gathering up some sparse kindling and firewood, arranging stones in a circle to make a place for the fire. It gave her a nostalgic feeling. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that Lord Rama would return any moment, with water, or a deer he had caught for their meal, or simply rough-housing with his brother Lakshmana. 

The scenery was completely different, of course. The vegetation and even the rock formations had nothing in common with the lands she had known, and even the knowledge she’d gained during summoning didn’t make up the difference. 

...She hadn’t seen any game while making camp. She wouldn’t have caught it anyway, having no need to eat, but there had been nothing at all — no rabbits, or deer, or birds. There was no sound of wildlife either. No bird calls, not even the sound of insects, just the wind rustling the dried grasses. 

It wasn’t just that. In all this time, the weather hadn’t changed even once. The season was indeterminable. This was no longer a living land, but just the static, fading image of a distant place. 

This Singularity was done for. 

And this small journey would also soon come to an end. 

The chase had taken them quite a distance, past the flat plains and to the foot of a mountain range that had been dyed orange in the setting sun, and Arjuna had retreated onto one of the peaks. A mountain hermitage was certainly very traditional, and whatever he had been doing caused swirling magical energy to flare up all through the night. 

He didn’t return until dawn. His clothing was still smudged with dust from his scuffle with Helena, and even his hair was a bit mussed. It was obvious he hadn’t rested at all. 

The reason was in the hand he held out to Sita. 

“Here,” he said, handing her something long and wrapped in a deep blue cloth. Shifting aside the folds, Sita could see that it was a single arrow, shaped slightly different from his normal ones but still with the same azure fletching like flames. 

“This is?” she asked, tilting it carefully to better examine the tip and the strange arrowhead. 

“Brahmastra.” 

Her head snapping up to stare at him, Sita nearly dropped it in shock. “Bra... Brahmastra?!” 

An astra that had been awarded to many heroes throughout the ages and legends. Arjuna had been among them, as had Karna. But most importantly, it was the weapon that Rama had been entrusted with for the purpose of defeating the rakshasa king, Ravana. 

It had indeed originally been an arrow. However... 

Sita looked down at it, then back up at Arjuna. 

Her complete confusion made him preen, smirking smugly. “Within the limitations of the Servant container, it isn’t one of my Noble Phantasms, but that doesn’t mean I can’t manifest it if I put in a certain effort,” he said, with a faint tone of bragging. “I have many other astras as well, so I will give this one to you. This battlefield isn’t a place you can survive without sufficient strength. It would be a shame if you vanished before you could even reach him. So you must at least shoot this first, since I’m entrusting it to you.” 

A self-defense tool, and also... 

“Then, I will gratefully accept,” Sita said, smiling and holding the arrow to her chest. “I swear, I will not vanish from this world without using it.” 

Her warm, beaming expression was too much for Arjuna, who glanced away and seemed on the verge leaning back as well. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms. 

“This doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I still think you don’t understand the circumstances or the meaning of my actions. You don’t know my real self. I will still do as I have said. However... I won’t disparage your kindness.”

Turning her words back on her, was he trying to be backhanded? 

It was true that she couldn’t understand his circumstances or the reasons behind his choices. Their lives and experiences were too disparate for that. It was also true that there were aspects of him she hadn’t seen and had no knowledge of. After all, they had only known each other for a short time. 

But the arrow in her hands was real too. 

Smiling, Sita reached out before she could think better of it or Arjuna could stop her — and patted his on the head. At his flabbergasted, horrified expression, she broke out in helpless laughter. 

~.~ 

**Notes:**

-I need to rewrite this chapter later. The dialogue isn’t very smooth. 

-For Valentines, Arjuna gives Guda the arrow used to kill Karna. However, my wiki ‘research’ says that Karna was killed with an astra (Anjalikastra). Ergo, you can shove astras into arrows and give them to people. My logic is impeccable. 

-In regard to what specific astra he gives Sita, I was divided on what to use. I also Agneyastra (emits flames) or Rudra Astra (very destructive, no details on wiki), but I went with Brahmastra since that is canonically used by both Rama and Karna already. It supposedly can destroy entire hosts at once and also counter most other astras. 

-Biggest headache: Do you capitalize astra or not... Rama’s profile doesn’t capitalize rakshasa, so I went with the same idea. 

-In any case, it’s all final battle from here! For 8 or so chapters, haha.

~.~


	19. Fujimaru’s Eleven (Chaldea)

**Chapter 19: Fujimaru’s Eleven**

_ “Alright, let’s assess the current situation,” Edison had said, once their newly forged alliance reconvened. “Here's a map of the Singularity’s lands, as best as we have been able to judge. The Celts occupy the eastern half of North America, as well as the north and the far west coast. They have nearly surrounded us, and they will soon invade from two routes, north and south. They're currently making the preparations to do so.”  _

_ With the situation having progressed that far, they had to scramble to plan a defense of both fronts. If the remaining nascent American state lost too much land, the Singularity would become too separated from proper history and collapse.  _

_ But at the same time, they couldn’t remain on the defensive — it would only lead to a slow death instead. They had to go on the attack, all the way to Washington.  _

_ Two fronts, two armies. One to hold its ground at all costs, one to rush toward the enemy’s capital at all speed.  _

_ And somehow, the decision on how to split their forces had been given to Ritsuka.  _

_ He sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands and tugging lightly at his hair.  _

_ Of course, he hadn’t been left completely floundering. Several of the group had provided some advice or input. And they had explained their reasoning for leaving it to him — Chaldea and Ritsuka in particular had the most experience coordinating and working with multiple Servants, in the previous Singularities. Strange as it was to consider, there was no Master as familiar with Servants as Ritsuka.  _

_ But even so, it was all too much. Ritsuka could only be grateful that, seeing his panicked expression, the others had told him to take the night to think it over and give them his decision in the morning.  _

_ Edison had assigned them rooms within the Denver fortress, but the sparsely furnished, utilitarian chamber had only made Ritsuka feel more pressed down and penned in, so he had headed outside instead, leaving Mash a note just in case.  _

_ The sky had long since gone dark, though ‘King Solomon’s’ Noble Phantasm remained overhead, unreachable and constant. There were two more Singularities to go, before he ‘took them seriously.’  _

_ Closing his eyes, Ritsuka took a deep breath.  _

_ The cold air, at least, felt pleasantly bracing, helping clear his head.  _

_ There were two fonts, he reminded himself. The north would hold their ground, and the south would advance on Washington.  _

_ Karna had requested to head north, and Doctor Roman had agreed with his logic. The reason was simple — Arjuna. That person was still out there, and with everything coming to a head, there was a good chance he would show up, seeking his duel. With his power, his presence as a third party would inevitably cause chaos on the battlefield. For the south army, that was something they wanted to avoid as it might slow their advance, but for the north... Doctor Roman, at least, thought it would be fine. Arjuna would throw the Celts out of order just as much, and as long as they couldn’t claim more territory, it would have only a neutral effect on the era’s stability, instead of an outright negative one.  _

_ Given Karna’s power and experience leading an army, they could leave most of that front to him. However, someone else would need to go, if only to take charge once Karna became occupied with Arjuna’s appearance. But who should it be?  _

_ Rama would go south, to Washington, to face Cu Chulainn and Queen Medb. He was their trump card, after all, and the other Servant with power to match Karna. Ritsuka and Mash would need to go there as well, to reclaim the Holy Grail, and Scathach would go as insurance against her prodigal student. Then, the remaining ones were...  _

_ Excluding Nightingale, who had no ability to command an army and would charge off as soon as the enemy was in sight, that left only Robin, Billy, and Edison.  _

_ None of them were military leaders either, of course, but Edison came the closest, especially in his current form. However, in terms of stalling an invading force, Robin was doubtlessly the best choice. Should both of them go? Or would that be too much? If they left too little for the south, it would all be meaningless— _

_ A quiet voice broke him out of his circling thoughts.  _

_ "Taking a walk at this hour?"  _

_ Stepping outside through the doors they had broken earlier that day, Nightingale sat down next to Ritsuka on the stone steps. The damage to the front gates of the fortress had at least been patched up, but there were still obvious signs of their forced entry everywhere in the courtyard — especially the craters and gouged they had left in the ground and the soot from explosions on a few stone walls.  _

_ However, the guards at the gate, on the walls and passing on patrol intermittently completely ignored them, having received new orders from the Presi-king himself.  _

_ "...Just a change of pace," Ritsuka replied, smiling weakly.  _

_ Nightingale studied him for a moment. "I shall accompany you," she decided.  _

_ It was a relief, not to be alone with his thoughts. Nightingale, with her keen ability to perceive even the mental "illnesses" of any patient, probably knew that as well. It was likely why she had chosen to pause in her tireless rounds to sit with him instead — and why she was the one to strike up conversation in the silence, a rare move for a Berserker who mostly spoke as if to herself.  _

_ "...Edison's wounds are healed. The obsessions of the past presidents that had been possessing him should be lessened now," she said, along the topic she knew best. "There is a chance of a relapse, so I need to continue monitoring him, but there is only one illness left plaguing this era. I only hope then the world will be healed.”  _

_ “Yeah,” Ritsuka sighed, thinking of that overwhelming illness in Washington, standing between them and resolving this Singularity, “we have to make it work.” _

_ Nightingale glanced at him, her eyes narrowing — not in warning, but with something softer. “I hope you don't misunderstand, I have no intention of putting you under any pressure,” she said directly and frankly. “It's insane to have just one person bear the responsibilities of stopping world destruction. Only the insane could withstand the pressure. ...Like I once was. But even I had a choice. If I just closed my eyes and forgave myself, I could still live.”  _

_ That was a choice Ritsuka didn’t have.  _

_ There were no other Masters. Among Chaldea’s surviving two dozen staff, none had the potential to Rayshift or enter contracts easily. And having come this far, Ritsuka had become the only one with direct field experience. If he refused, there would be only Mash, who could not face everything alone. He couldn’t turn away.  _

_ If he tried to run, he would die. His family, his friends, everyone he had ever known would die. Humanity would die.  _

_ The only options were to fight or to die. Ritsuka would fight. Of course, he would. But...  _

_ Nightingale’s expression was soft with sympathy and understanding. “You don’t need to bear that responsibility alone,” she said, unexpectedly. “You only need to make an effort. Even if your choice is correct, there is the possibility that we, the entrusted, will fail. Even with utmost preparations, soldiers will die, and people will fall ill. There is no need to think, ‘it’s my fault,’ as long as you do everything you can.  _

_ “And,” she said slowly and firmly, “I know you will. I trust you. The same way I trust my comrades who fought against the stubborn army. Even if our contract is only for a short while, you are my Master. So I hope you do not shoulder too much weight. Relax, but be honest — I'm sure we will be fine.”  _

_ Ritsuka’s eyes widened as she spoke, each word striking deeper and deeper.  _

_ It wasn’t as if the others didn’t support him. There was Da Vinci and Doctor Roman, and the rest of the staff who always had his back. There was Mash, who was beside him and whose strength had kept him going all this time.  _

_ But even so, it was still...  _

_...Very comforting to hear.  _

_ Ducking his head, Ritsuka smiled. As he looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap, his vision blurred slightly, and he closed his eyes.  _

_ They sat in peaceful silence for a long time, before Nightingale let out a humming breath and said, “The night breeze is chilly. Let’s return, lest you catch a cold.”  _

_ “Yeah,” Ritsuka agreed. “Let’s head in. Make sure to get some rest. We’ll be setting out tomorrow.”  _

_ Nightingale uncharacteristically dithered — uninterested in seeing to her own needs, but also unwilling to ignore him entirely. Finally, with an air of great reluctance, she gave what could pass for a nod. “I will be ready,” she said. “It’s time to put an end to the illness of this era.”  _

_ Yes, it was time.  _

~.~

Although the Celts had been maneuvering to attack Denver and the remaining Western American lands from the south, their army set out before they could move into position, and the first clashes took place eastward. They swept through Lubbock, Dalas and Alexandria along what would someday become America’s south border and finally arrived at the plains around Montgomery. 

The city itself was another anachronism, pulled into the Singularity from further down the ruined timeline, but it served as a rare anchor on the unstable map of ‘America’. Past Montgomery, they would turn north and rush along the East Coast straight toward Washington. 

But before that, an army stood in their way. 

“Looks like that’s the main body of the force that was preparing to invade Western America,” Rama noted, as the scouts delivered their reports. “They have a Servant leading the charge, but they’re heading straight toward us even though we outnumber them.” 

Somewhat bewildered, he shook his head. 

“Celtic heroes are like that,” Doctor Roman chimed in. “They’re all muscle-heads who love battle. The ones that come up with schemes are the outliers. Looking at the numbers, we should be able to crush them, but don’t let your guard down.” 

“Of course!” Edison agreed. “Every life is precious. We must aim to win with as few casualties as possible! I’ve already upgraded the armors as much as I can. Commander Rama, ask me any questions you have about their capabilities.” 

Rama chuckled a bit dryly. “Thankfully, the detail movements will be left up to the officers in each platoon. I just wonder whether they’ll be able to last against the Celtic warriors.” 

“Yes, are they going to be alright in terms of battery power?” Ritsuka wondered. “The ones in London were made from Babbage’s Noble Phantasm, so they were like monsters living directly off magical energy or something, right? But your models run on electricity. Did we bring enough... batteries? Or coal? Or...” 

What did those things actually run on? 

The more he tried to think about how the mechanized infantry functioned, the more questions he felt coming to mind. Since the armors had come from Edison, a historical individual who lived less than a century prior to present day, Ritsuka had perhaps erroneously expected something closer to his normal sensibilities, unlike the ancient heroes from the Age of Gods, who were just completely beyond understanding. But no matter how he looked at it, those mechanized troops didn’t seem scientifically possible. 

“It’s fine!” Edison said, laughing. “I just made a converter to turn the abundant magical energy in the air into electricity to power the armor! As for the stamina of the pilots, there are some limitations. They should be able to go for close to twenty hours if necessary, but the most sustainable pattern we found was 12 hours work, 12 hours rest.” 

“Wait, you made a converter for magical energy to electricity?” Doctor Roman broke in, his voice incredulous. “But that’s...” 

“As expected of the King of Inventions,” Da Vinci complimented, her voice coming from an angle as she doubtlessly shoved Romani aside to speak. 

Edison puffed up happily at kind words from the great Leonardo da Vinci herself. Ritsuka shot a look at Mash, wondering about Doctor Roman’s reaction, but she only shook her head. There were some things that just weren’t worth the effort of explaining in their situation. 

“Alright, then we’ll aim to wrap up the main battle within half a day,” Rama said, focusing on the relevant points. “There shouldn’t be any issue with the basic monsters and Celtic warriors, but the mechanized units still fall a bit short when it comes to stronger beasts or Shadow Servants, so we’ll need to split up and be ready to take over if any appear. Edison, take the left. Nightingale, you’re on the right. Fujimaru, you and Mash stay with the main force, be ready to support anyone who needs it. Everyone clear?” 

There was a chorus of agreements. 

It went without saying that Rama himself would face the Servant general on the other side. Among their group, there had also been Scathach, but as they were setting out, she had declared that she would move independently. They could only trust that she would appear when her presence was needed most — most likely against her former student. 

The group split up to move into position, both Edison and Nightingale taking off quickly in opposite directions, while Rama pressed forward to lead the charge. Soon, the enemy forces were close enough for even Ritsuka to see with the naked eye. Squinting, he could just make out a taller, stouter figure at their head, making no effort to hide his presence — the enemy Servant. 

Unlike the flat plains and rolling hills in the middle of the country, the area around Montgomery was broken up by scattered boulders and even rocky cliffs that jutted up from among the sparse brush and the fields of blooming wildflowers. 

The yellow flowers swayed in the wind, mixed with splashes of white and red closer to the rocks. 

Ritsuka sighed internally with some regret. It was a beautiful place, but it would soon be ruined as the two armies advanced toward each other without hesitation. 

However, there was no more time to think about it. A chilling screech sounded in the distance, and a flock of dark shapes began to descend from behind the clouds overhead. 

“Wyverns incoming!” Mash reported, her shield materializing in her hands. 

“Don’t panic!” Ritsuka commanded. “Fire the Anti-Air Edisonian Direct Current Electromagnetic Net Launchers!” 

His orders were faithfully echoed back by the nearby officer, speaking into the radios Edison had provided. Across the army, the dark tubes of the launchers were leveled toward the sky and fired in a deafening series of explosions. The wave of wyvern overhead staggered and undulated as many were tangled by the nets and plummeted downward gracelessly. 

Heedless, the remaining wyverns swooped toward the army, and the mechanized infantry opened fire in response, the air suddenly filled with the rattling of their machine guns. 

Ritsuka flinched, momentarily taken off guard. 

He had seen many battles, including those with armies not much smaller than these, in Orleans and Rome. However, those battles had been fought with swords, spears and bows — and the occasional spell flung about. Standing beside the full might of a modern-style military was overwhelming in a way their earlier skirmishes with the mechanized infantry hadn’t prepared him for. 

“Haaaah!” Mash’s war cry cut through the cacophony, if only because Ritsuka was always listening for her. 

Launching herself up, she smashed aside a surviving wyvern which had been headed for the tank-like vehicle they were using as transport. 

The beast was far from done, but its short incapacitation was enough for the surrounding troops to turn on it. Their bullets quickly cut through its wings and its hide, and under a relentless barrage from all sides, the wyvern soon collapsed. Its body was already beginning to dissolve as the mechanized troops turned away to face their next targets. 

The same thing was occurring all across the battlefield. One on one, each mechanized soldier could be considered roughly equal to a Celtic warrior or a lesser monster. These wyverns would be in the upper range of their capabilities, and it would be a tough match. However, Edison’s soldiers had been drilled with group tactics, always attacking each opponent with a numerical advantage that let them quickly gain the upper hand, while keeping damage and casualties down. 

When they had discussed the Western army’s methods long ago, they had described it was “quantity over quality,” but in fact, a great deal of thought had been put into their approach. If not for the Holy Grail that gave Medb infinite resources, the war might have gone very differently. 

Further ahead, the vanguard led by Rama had already collided with the enemy’s front line — and the enemy Servant. Spells flashed from enemy druids flashed among the mechanized infantry’s gunfire, and the bulky figures of golems relentlessly waded into the originally orderly formations. 

And between it all, petals from the trampled wildflowers fluttered through the air. 

“It looks like Rama has the upper hand,” Doctor Roman reported. “Well, no surprise, since he’s  _ that  _ Rama... We’re not picking up any other Servant readings in the vicinity, so it’ll only be a battle of numbers from here.” 

Ritsuka nodded distractedly, forgetting that Chaldea wouldn’t be able to see it. Like Romani had said, this would be a battle of numbers, where no single enemy presented a threat and the main difficulty would be taking out enough of them. Since none of the Servants involved would need extra help, there was little for Ritsuka to contribute in this situation, and he could only try to keep watch for any irregularities. 

Having finished off the nearest wyverns, Mash quickly returned to Ritsuka’s side. “Master, are you alright?” she asked, looking him over worriedly. 

“I’m fine,” Ritsuka said, shooting her a smile. “What about you? Can you keep going?” 

“No problem!” Mash confirmed without hesitation. Raising her free arm, she made a gesture as if flexing her bicep. 

Since Rama had told them to stay in reserve, they could only wait for the moment. Further away, lightning and explosions indicated Edison’s and Nightingale’s positions, but neither appeared in any need of help. 

That only left Rama. Flashes of rainbow light appeared and vanished up ahead, and the ground occasionally trembled with the force of his battle. However, he also had not requested any assistance. 

If it was just this—

“Fujimaru-kun! We have an incoming signal, and a big one!” Doctor Roman reported suddenly. “It looks like it’s coming from above. Based on these readings, it should be...” 

Ritsuka closed his eyes, taking a moment to scold himself for tempting fate. 

“A dragon!” Mash exclaimed, staring up at the massive shape that was swiftly descending onto the field. 

It was only a nameless dragon, nowhere near the terrifying levels of Fafnir in Orleans, but it was still far beyond the level of the mechanized infantry. It would be landing on the left, in Nightingale’s range, but even she would struggle against it. 

Mash and Ritsuka shared a quick look, both thinking the same. 

“Let’s go!” 

Without hesitation, they dived into the chaos of the battlefield. 

~.~ 

Rama had noticed the dragon’s arrival as well, but he didn’t waste time thinking of it. He trusted his comrades to handle it and gave his full attention to the opponent in front of him. It was a matter of pragmatism, but also of a warrior’s pride. 

The other Saber had introduced himself as Fergus of the Red Branch Knights. 

Fergus mac Róich. A famous Celtic hero whose legend was closely tied to Cu Chulainn, he had naturally been included in Chadea’s briefings regarding their opponents, known and potential. His weapon was the Spiral Rainbow Sword, Caladbolg, an anti-army Noble Phantasm of tremendous range and power, capable of destroying the landscape. In legend, it once split a hill into three pieces.

It was certainly a fine sword, to be able to withstand Rama’s own immortal blade. And Fergus was a fine warrior to withstand Rama himself. However... 

Even though Fergus had managed to avoid any serious injuries or lethal blows, the smaller wounds were steadily increasing across his body. Slowly but steadily, Rama was gaining the upper hand. 

“Hahaha! You’re really something!” Fergus laughed, undaunted. “No wonder I heard you managed to survive against even that Cu Chulainn! And given the wife is that strong, the husband has to be at least this good too, huh?” 

Even though it was only for a split second, Rama couldn’t help faltering. 

“Sita?!” he gasped, his expression quickly twisting into furious suspicion. 

Fergus didn’t take even that small opening, as if he hadn’t been aiming for a reaction and only making middle-battle smalltalk. “She’s a beauty, and gave me a good beating too. You’re a lucky man!” 

Sita? Gave him a beating?  _ His _ Sita?! 

This was clearly a psychological attack of some sort after all! 

However! This Celtic schemer was right about one thing. 

“I’m very lucky!” Rama agreed, unhesitating and more determined than ever. “Sita is the most amazing woman in the world! And that might still have a chance to see her once more, no matter how slim, makes me the luckiest man!” 

With a battlecry, he put an extra burst of strength into his swing. Fergus blocked with his own sword, but the blow sent him skidding backwards. “It’s good that you know!” he said. “And just as I expected — you’re quite a beauty yourself! What do you think, why don’t we have some fun together, all three of us?” 

“...Huh?!” 

This time, Fergus had been fishing for a reaction, and he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of Rama’s wide-eyed, scandalized shock. He retreated quickly without turning his back, putting a wide distance between them — which Rama didn’t rush to close even once he recovered. 

Instead, Rama jabbed his sword toward his opponent, red-faced and scowling. “You! You scoundrel!” he accused. “Is this situation where you ask such a thing? And what did you do to Sita?!” 

Fergus laughed again. Even though he was also aware that he was unlikely to win this battle, he remained in high spirits. The great Celtic heroes did not fear death on the battlefield, especially not against such an opponent, and even the stray thought that his queen and her king might be defeated as well no longer brought him any sense of dread or anguish. It was the unavoidable outcome of this war, and perhaps the best possible ending. 

As long as they were defeated here, they could meet again somewhere, someday. 

So the only thing left for him was to make as grand an exit as possible. 

‘Now then,’ Fergus thought, ‘this should be far enough. He’s a Saber after all.’ 

He had lost at range to an Archer, which was his own mistake. But even her husband was the kind of Saber who could attack at a distance, the one to draw first had the advantage when it came to a duel of blades. 

“Hahaha, here we go!” Fergus threw his head back and raised his sword — before flipping it over and thrusting it into the ground. It shone in a dazzling display of seven colors, sending magical energy surging through the ground. “Feast your eyes on a true rainbow!”

“Guh! You—!” Rama realized his opponent’s intention too late, already losing his footing as the ragged plain cracked into pieces. 

_ “Caladbolg!” _

In truth, the Spiral Rainbow Sword was unsuited to targeting single opponents, leaving Fergus at a disadvantage when facing other Servants. It was instead a weapon that excelled against an army. 

Since they would only be a liability, the mechanized infantry had been ordered from the start to avoid enemy Servants, and they had been giving Rama and Fergus’s battle a wide berth. However, that distance was nothing to Caladbolg unleashed without any restraint or anything held back. Long cracks spread across the plains and quickly widened into growing chasms, entire sections of ground collapsing into the rainbow light from below. Mechanized infantry, Celtic soldiers, and monsters alike were thrown off their feet, scrambling to avoid being swallowed up, while surviving wyverns took to the skies. 

‘Is he trying to just wipe out both armies?’ Rama wondered furiously, gritting his teeth as he was forced to continuously jump between disappearing ledges just to stay out of the growing fissures. Not to mention, with the amount of magical energy Fergus was pouring into his Noble Phantasm, he likely wouldn’t be able to maintain his Spirit Origin afterwards either... 

“Forget it! I’m not interested in going down with you!” Rama yelled. “I still have something I must do!” 

Promised, vows, and a purpose. And also, above all, a person he had to see. 

From the start, Brahmastra was a ranged weapon — like light striking down an enemy from afar. Even after being forcibly changed into a sword to match Rama’s forced manifestation in the Saber class, that aspect and purpose remained the same. 

Finally overtaking the pace of collapse and climbing level with his enemy, Rama launched himself into the air. As he let go of his blade, it remained in the air of its own accord — and began to spin, shining brightly. 

“This attack brought down Ravana himself!” he shouted, haloed by a circled of light. Even over the continued rumbling of the collapsing ground, his voice was clear. “Honor will be upon you if you can endure it, destruction if you cannot. Which will it be?! Here I come!  _ Brahmastra!”  _

He had somewhat hoped to avoid using his Noble Phantasm for as long as possible. Hiding the full extent of your abilities was vital to Servants, and he only had a limited amount of magical energy, even if it would replenish over time. However, hesitating could also be the downfall of a warrior. With the army on the line, swift action was the course Rama chose. 

Still holding the active, shining Caladbolg, Fergus had no way to dodge. 

‘So you can throw it too, huh?’ he thought at the last moment. What kind of sword was that, exactly? 

However, he didn’t feel any frustration or bitterness at the unexpected, unpredictable twist determining the outcome of the battle, only a sense of amusement. His laughter rang out even as Brahmastra plowed into him, sending him tumbling down the pit his own Noble Phantasm had created, and his body began to dissolve golden light. 

Caladbolg’s light and the tremors cut off as it and its wielder were defeated. 

Heaving an annoyed sigh, Rama hopped between several crumbling ledges before finally finding his footing. He straightened slowly, still on his guard, and looked around to take stock of the situation. 

The previously flat plains had been split open by several wide chasms, spreading out from the gaping rift in the center. The armies had been separated similarly, and the fighting was already resuming, but it was hard to tell the extent of their casualties through the clouds of dust. 

A sharp gust of wind cut through the dust cover — the dragon descending once more after taking off during Caladbolg’s earthquake. Smaller wyverns spiralled around it like a flock of dark birds. 

The dragon was met with a thrown mortar to the snout before it could even touch down, one of Nightingale’s, who approached fearlessly regardless of the overturned boulders and crevices in her path. It reared back with a roar, furious but largely uninjured. This was a kind of enemy that would be difficult for her to face alone. 

Edison was on the other end of the battlefield, but Rama expected Mash and Ritsuka to have gone to her aid. Ritsuka was only a human, he thought with a sudden flash of concern, quickly looking around the area for any sign of Chaldea’s Master. 

“What in the world...?!” Rama choked in surprise. 

Ritsuka was fine. However, the thing that he was standing on fell completely outside of Rama’s expectations. 

Sleek, silver and slowly spinning — it was a ‘flying saucer’ famous in the modern age. There were... there were aliens now? The Incineration of Humanity wasn’t enough? Even aliens were joining in?

...No, calm down. 

Rama put a hand to his forehead and shook his head. Edison had told them about this. This was his friend Helena Blavatsky’s Noble Phantasm, the friend who had gone to face — stall — Arjuna. It seemed she had finally returned, just in time to catch Ritsuka and a number of soldiers before they could fall to their deaths. 

The passengers quickly jumped off, and Helena sent her flying saucer crashing into the dragon with enough force to knock it reeling back a step. 

It looked like they didn’t need his help, Rama decided and turned his attention across the rest of the battlefield. 

Lightning in the distance marked Edison’s location, and gunfire flashed all across the broken plains. There was no single place where the fighting was more intense, leaving him hesitating for a moment. Well, if it was like that, he’d just pick a direction and start swinging, he supposed. 

_ “—!” _

Rama stopped in his tracks. He had thought someone had called his name. 

_ “—ma!”  _

He hadn’t imagined it. He spun around quickly, looking for whoever needed his heart. Per their orders, the mechanized infantry had kept clear of the enemy Servant and Rama’s battle. Between that and the destruction Caladbolg had caused, there was no one left nearby — or there shouldn’t have been. 

The voice had come from across a ravine. Although a deep gouge had opened up between the other side and where Rama stood and the ground there had become oddly tilted, it remained otherwise intact. Even some of the wildflowers had survived, fluttering in the still unsettled winds. 

Someone was there. Behind the dust and the scattered flower petals, there was—

_ “Lord Rama!” _

Rama’s eyes widened in shock. 

“SITA!” 

~.~

**Notes:**

-Mash and Ritsuka (2), Billy and Robin (2), Rama and Karna (2), Edison and Nightingale (2), Scathach (1), and Romani and Da Vinci (2) equals eleven in total. The title is of course riffing on Ocean’s Eleven. 

-I always liked the short scene where Guda and Nightingale take a walk at night. It’s a rare point where Guda is addressed as a genuinely ordinary person. There isn’t really any need to include something like that here, but I stuck it in anyway, haha... 

-To summarize: Karna, Robin and Billy went to the north battlefield, where they just need to hold the line. RitsuMash, Nightingale, Rama, Edison, plus Scathach went south, their job is to advance to Washington. Helena and Sita show up there as well. 

-I have the enduring, constant feeling that I am getting the north and south backwards. I continually double check, but I still feel I’m wrong. 

~.~


	20. The Fifth Element (Chaldea)

**Chapter 20: The Fifth Element**

After separating from Arjuna, Sita had rushed to catch up to Helena. Although the Caster had a night’s head start, she had needed to rest after giving him the runaround for so long, so it hadn’t been difficult to find her. And, though far from pleased about it, Helena hadn’t wasted time doubting Sita’s intentions. Confirming that they were headed to the same front, in the south, they set out together. 

The south army's first major engagement had already been underway as they approached, and Caladbolg's rainbow light soon spilled out from below. 

"Hold on!" Helena yelled, and her flying saucer swerved sharply to avoid a flock of wyverns taking to the air. 

Bow in hand, Sita shot off three arrows in quick succession, each sinking into the softer skin under the throat of a wyvern that had strayed too close. Sweeping her eyes over the chaos of the battlefield, she finally caught a flash of the flame-red she had been searching for. 

“My thanks for the ride! I’m going now!” she yelled over her shoulder — and dashed toward the edge of the flying saucer. 

Helena yelled something, perhaps in response, perhaps about the situation below. Sita couldn’t make it out over the wind already rushing in her ears as she leaped off. The saucer banked sharply behind her, It seemed Helena found someone she had been searching for as well. 

The way down was a confused blur of rainbow light and columns of dust. With a startled yelp, Sita found herself being spun around as she fell, head over heels. Throwing her arms over her head, she tried to brace for landing. 

It was not a graceful one, but she didn’t have time to worry about her dignity or her new bruises as the ground near her began to collapse, sending her scrambling out of the way. 

She had aimed to land near Rama but hopefully out of the way from his battle with Fergus, but she couldn’t barely stay on her feet, much less run toward anyone — if she could even find him at all. She wanted to call out, but her voice would only be lost in the cacophony of battle and crumbling rock. 

Then, a golden light flashed nearby, just beyond the veil of dust. 

The shaking stopped. The battle between Servants had ended. 

‘Lord Rama,’ Sita thought, her heart in her throat, caught between the certainty that he must have won, he couldn’t have lost, and the inescapable fear of  _ what if. _

“Lord Rama!” 

She ran toward the place where Brahmastra — and it couldn’t have been anything else — had flown. The piece of land she’d jumped down onto was still largely intact, broken up only by clusters of boulders jutting up, but also tilted oddly like a plate about to slip off a table. Rushing ahead blindly, she almost careened off the edge of the plate but just barely managed to skid to a halt before the chasm up ahead. Without pausing, she took off along the ledge. 

“Lord Rama!” 

There. A flash of red and a painfully familiar figure. His back was to her, and suddenly all Sita wanted was to see his face. 

That feeling was accompanied by a stomach twisting nausea that made her struggle not to double over. Her vision blurred, and her voice cracked. 

_ “Lord Rama!!”  _

This curse... this curse... 

She had never forgotten it. But she had gone so many days without it and had even been able to see Rama before, at the very start... That had only been allowed because she had made her decision to stand against him. There was no need for the curse to drag them down if they plunged themselves into tragedy of their own making. 

It was different now. There was nothing separating them — except this curse. 

...There was one more thing. If only for a moment, it would be enough. 

Blindly, she grasped onto the arrow she had tied to a ribbon on her skirts, the deep blue contrasting with her white and red. As a thing that had no part in the legend of ‘Sita’, she hadn’t been able to dematerialize it like one of her own weapons or armaments and had simply carried it with her ever since they parted. 

She had vowed not to vanish until she let loose this arrow. 

The shaft was thin, but there was no give as she gripped it with all her strength. The nausea and vertigo abated just enough to let her raise her head and open her eyes — but she knew it was only a temporary measure. The gears of the curse had been momentarily jammed, but it would overcome that obstacle all too soon. 

When she looked up, she saw Rama. He had turned and his eyes widened as he caught sight of her. Even across the divide, she could see the shock and the joy in his face. 

“Sita? Sita!” he called out, taking a step toward her. 

That was all he managed. As if running into a wall, he swayed suddenly and reached up to hold his head with one hand. Sita flinched, her lips thinning as she understood what had happened. 

If it could not whisk her away, the curse could turn on him instead. 

There was a chasm between them. It wasn’t wide, and either of them could easily jump across, but they both understood — they couldn’t take a step closer. 

“Sita...” Rama stammered, his expression pained and eyes red-rimmed. “Sita, I—!” 

“I love you,” Sita said. 

She knew all the conflicted feelings that he couldn’t force out, could see them on his face. He was so, so sorry, he was ashamed, he loved her — her Lord Rama had never hidden anything from her. He had always lived by his heart, even when he tempered it with logic and purpose. Even if he didn’t say it, she would always know. 

He didn’t need to say it. The way his shoulders trembled and his breath caught in his throat showed it everything. 

Sita smiled. “I love you, Lord Rama!” she repeated, her voice carrying over the chasm between them, bright and clear. “And I don’t blame you for anything. I’ve never blamed you. I know how much you struggled and fought for me, and I am so grateful to you, Lord Rama. Thank you for taking as your wife, and for giving your love to me!” 

“Sita! Sita, I’m sorry—!” Rama finally couldn’t endure it any longer. “I swear, I’ll find a way to be with you again! Please, just wait for me—!” 

“I know. I believe in you,” Sita said with absolute certainty. “But I’m not going to just wait anymore! The world has changed, and I want to change as well. After this battle, I’ll also search for a way back to you! I’m going to fight too!” 

...It was getting hard to breathe. Even Rama’s figure was becoming blurred again. 

‘So I’m out of time...’ she thought, but even so, she couldn’t stop smiling. 

Her bow appeared in her hand, steadying her slightly. Taking a deep breath, she notched the arrow. 

“Sita! I love you! I love you so much!” Rama shouted. “I... I’ll be waiting too! I’ll keep on fighting, and I’ll be waiting for you!” 

“Yes,” she agreed, “we will surely meet again.” 

The spiralling tip of the arrow pointed up as she drew back the bowstring. It began to shine, becoming a bolt of pure light between her fingers. In the distance, the dragon roared, a sweep of its tail sending the united America-Chaldea force scrambling back. Its great head swung back, and a barrage of fireballs crashed across the battered landscape. 

Smiling, Sita released the arrow entrusted to her. 

Brahmastra flashed, parting the air with a thunderclap, and came down like a bolt from the blue. 

The dragon reared back, its last roar cut off suddenly. Then, slowly, it toppled over. 

Rama didn’t turn to look at it even once. It was a long time before he looked away from the place his beloved wife had been standing a moment before, but where only the flowers and few scattered motes of light remained — and a deep blue cloth, carried away by the wind. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, closing his eyes, “we will surely meet again. I swear it.” 

But first — he would save this era. There was nothing holding him back now, not a single regret or distraction. 

~.~ 

Medb made a small sound of surprise. 

“He’s dead,” she noted, her tone a little strange. “Fergus, that is.” 

“...Is that so,” Cu Chulainn responded without interest. He didn’t move or even turn to look at her. 

She glanced at him and, visibility shaking off her odd mood, smiled sharply. “Oh? That’s all? So apathetic, even though he was your foster father,” she teased. 

“He was your lover,” Cu Chulainn said flatly, earning a smile and a shrug of acknowledgement from Medb. “It doesn’t matter. He would have died at some point anyway, and the greatest benefit of a dead man is that you no longer have to think of him. What interests me is what the living are up to. ...Let's see. What do you think they're planning to do?” 

Medb hummed thoughtfully. “They moved to match both our north and south armies. The north is deadlocked, but the south army is advancing toward us. It seems they want a final battle.” She laughed coldly, slapping the riding crop against her palm. However, even that sharp amusement quickly faded into displeasure. “There sure are a lot of them. At least two in the north, and… one, two, three… four in the south. It looks like Edison partnered up with those scurrying rats that tried to ambush you. To get Edison moving, we really can’t underestimate them, can we?” 

Edison had been their last enemy, America’s final general and leader, summoned from the crumbling history of humanity to fight for the future that would birth him. However, no matter how he drew out the Singularity’s final, bitter struggle, he never had the power to overcome the Celtic forces — and he himself had known it, in his heart. 

He had only tried to hold the line and hid behind steel walls while delaying the inevitable. For him to suddenly turn around and begin such a fierce assault required an outside factor. 

Someone else was the true driving force of this united force. 

“For them to come together like this, it must be because they have a Master,” Cu Chulainn judged, still utterly dispassionate. “Someone they come together to support. A living human whose future they want to protect, enough to set aside their differences and even cast away their pride.” 

That was why Servants unleashed their greatest power when accompanying their Master. 

Heroic Spirits were people who had stood at the pinnacle, but they were all full of flaws that held them back. Whether their honor or their arrogance, their regrets or their impossible dreams, those things that clung to them from their original lives would weigh them down and make them run around in circles until they destroyed themselves. 

It was only when faced with the passion and potential of someone whose future was still undecided that they could be moved to overcome themselves and put forward their everything. 

...Well, at least that was how he thought. 

Servants with other Servants… His eyes slid to Medb for a moment, before Cu Chulainn dismissed the thought. The dead could not help the dead. Between them, they could only spiral deeper into their flawed obsessions. 

Wasn’t that how it had ended up on their side? 

“...Medb. How are you reading this?” he said instead. “Now that every Servant in this era has joined forces against us, is our army powerful enough to defeat them?” 

Her eyebrows rose, a playful smile curling her lips. “Let’s see...” Medb mused, tiling her head and shifting her weight coquettishly. “It might be tough. Hmm, this might not be good, huh? The desperate ones backed into a corner can be so dangerous. What to do, what to do?”

She giggled, glancing at Cu Chulainn with half-lidded eyes. Despite her words, she wasn’t concerned in the least. Her king didn’t respond to her provocations, only snorting quietly. “You’re afraid of them just because they’re desperate?” 

“No. no. Desperate people are the most fun to me,” she laughed. “The despair of those who hate us and spite us is so many shades darker than the ordinary kind, you see? An avenging father slain by his family's murderer, a lover killed by someone whose lover was also killed, I love stories like that. And then once they’ve suffered, I’ll simply squash them with my superior resources!” 

She puffed up as if ‘superior resources’ was something worth bragging about. That power simply came from the Holy Grail, which had been given to her by that thing beyond the boundary of time. 

The thing that had destroyed human history... Not that Medb cared about its purpose, or its origins, or its true face. 

“Then we’re going all in,” Cu Chulainn said. “Gather the troops.” 

Medb smirked, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “As my king commands!” she trilled. 

“...Based on the scouts’ reports, their main force is the South Army, while the North is just a skeleton army to stop our advance,” ‘her king’ went on. “They’ve already broken through the forces we’d sent to invade, and they’re planning to march straight to the capital. We’re going to meet them here.” 

“Oh...? I’m not against crushing them all at once, after they’ve put their all into this, but why not take out their weak North Army and claim Denver behind their backs?” Medb suggested. 

“Karna is there,” Cu Chulainn said plainly. 

Medb’s lovely face twisted in a disgusted grimace. “Him? He won’t stand a chance against you!” she complained. 

“I won’t lose. But it would be a drawn out battle,” Cu Chulainn acknowledged. “And besides, you said something wrong. It’s not every Servant in this era that has joined together. There is still Arjuna.”

“Him... That reminds me, we still haven’t paid him back,” Medb said. “Why not go north after all?” She smiled coldly, imagining something — something gruesome. 

Whatever it was, Cu Chulainn did not share her interest. He had never cared about ‘paying back’ Arjuna’s supposed treachery. It hadn’t been a matter of loyalty from the start, and they had never exchanged trust, so what kind of betrayal could it really be? 

He didn’t have interest in arguing with her either, so Cu Chulainn simply continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. Medb pouted and slumped slightly in disappointment, understanding she wouldn’t get her way. 

“Depending on his timing, the entire north front could come to a standstill,” Cu Chulainn said. “It could easily become enough delay for the South Army to return. Or they might press through to reclaim Washington. Either way will just drag out this war. I want to end it now.” 

He said simply, without thinking, but his own words made him pause. 

‘I want to end it.’ 

He wanted something? Was that something possible for the twisted manifestation of nothing but the concept of a king? 

His hand twitched, slowly closing into a fist. 

“I suppose it’s more majestic to tear apart the best they have to throw at us,” Medb admitted, still sulking. “Not to mention, that woman will probably be with the South Army too. You must be looking forward to fighting her properly, my king. With the power granted to you by my wish, you’ll rip her apart! A student devouring the master! That’s perfect!” 

Cu Chulainn felt no answering anticipation or desire. Of course. He had been momentarily confused — it was just a matter of fulfilling his purpose. There was no such thing as selfish desire within a king. 

“No,” he said without any particular emotion. “I am a king. A king doesn't fight for self-interest. I am the frame in establishing this kingdom, a weapon slaughtering all opponents. All I must do is go, and kill, regardless who stands in my way.” 

Whether the last human Master, or even his own mentor, he would just continue to kill until there was no one left in this era. And then, it would be over. Everything would be over, without any need to think about the future. Because every future and every era would be destroyed by the Incineration of Humanity. But even if that wasn’t the case, he wouldn’t have thought of an ‘afterwards’ anyway. The Mad King could only create a country of corpses, not govern it or protect it. 

That was the way he had been created. 

Medb drew out a long, thoughtful hum. “Cu, you’ve changed,” she said. Her expression was oddly distant before quickly changing back to her usual sultry manner. “You've become so much more regal! Of course, I love all sides of you. The wild side of you that lusts for fulfilling battles and love. The empty, hollow side of you that is bored of battle and just stoically carries on. I love them both. I love you, Cu... Really, truly.”

Beneath the intoxicated passion and desire, there was a note of something like sincerity. Perhaps she really was completely sincere. The human emotion called ‘love’ could take on many forms. 

But Cu Chulainn knew one thing, which he was certain he had always remained unchanged no matter what side of him was summoned. 

It was annoying. 

“Shut up,” he sighed. “You're annoying.” 

Medb only laughed. “You're so spiteful, hehehe,” she said with fondness, expecting nothing else. 

Spiralling together... Even though they had joined together for a single purpose, even though they had pulled in many allies, in the end none of it achieved anything. They hadn’t been able to break the countless things weighing them down. 

It really was only by dedicating themselves to the living that a Servant could become more than a hollow thing. It was surely like that. 

Breaking the ambiguous atmosphere between them, Medb straightened and smoothed out her expression into the mask of a queen. “But I’ll need some time,” she went on as if she had never shown the face of a maiden in love. “Setting the North aside, we’ll need something special to greet those heroes of justice when they arrive at our palace… I have a few things in mind.” 

“Good. Don’t hold back anything,” Cu Chulainn commanded. “This is the end. It’s time to let loose.” 

“I can’t wait,” Medb said. “I can’t wait to see you obliterate everything! Slaughter everyone! And bring this era to an end! Hahaha hahah—” 

Her laughter echoed around the abandoned shell of the occupied White House. Cu Chulainn didn’t smile — but there was something that moved in his chest. 

Yes, it was time to end everything. 

~.~

**Notes:**

-I’m kind of iffy about the resolution with Sita and Rama. Emotional scenes are tough! Sita’s part in this journey has come to an end, but I hope you can see that the path she took had meaning to her. It feels a little odd not to have her go out in a big fight scene, but Sita wasn’t a warrior to begin with, so it turned out like this. 

-Medb and Cu Chulainn’s scene is mostly to fill out the second half of the chapter. They’re not really villains I “get,” unfortunately. 

-We’re getting close to the end, so hang in there!

~.~


	21. Final Destination (Chaldea)

**Chapter 21: Final Destination**

Within the Fifth Singularity, the city of Washington was not famous as the capital of the nation but rather as the place where George Washington, the commander in chief of America’s Continental Army, made his last stand and met his end. 

It was a city that had not even been founded yet in 1783, the era of the Singularity, but George Washington’s forces had stumbled upon it as they were pushed back by a relentless assault from the Celtic warriors, who had appeared without warning just as the Treaty of Paris was about to be signed, formally ending the American Revolutionary War. Empty of people yet filled with structures in strange styles and even materials, it must have seemed like a sign to George Washington and his men. 

Unfortunately, it had not been a sign of victory, and the city that would have borne his name became Washington’s grave. 

....And the lair of the very queen that had brought about his death. 

“I hadn’t even materialized yet myself at that point,” Edison had admitted when they discussed their final approach toward the fallen capital. “I only heard about it from the few officers who managed to escape. Medb went after the founding fathers first... It’s a miracle America managed to hold on long enough for us to form the United Western States.” 

Ritsuka shook his head. “Miracles are... something people create,” he had said almost absently, lost in some memory. “Sometimes they come through the efforts of people we’ll never meet, but I think there is always an origin. Someone’s struggle for a future they might not see...” 

When he thought about it, Chaldea’s existence was a miracle. To continue pushing back against even the extinction of humanity was nothing short of that. 

But it was a miracle someone had built. Marisbury Animusphere, a man who had died long before Ritsuka had ever heard his name. And not just him — all the engineers and mages who had created the technology Chaldea needed to function. Rayshifting, summoning, Chaldeas itself. 

Sometimes, he felt terrifyingly alone. It was just him and Mash against the weight of something as crushing as the end of the world. How could they possibly have the power to fight back against something like that? How much could a single human, much less an ordinary person like him, even accomplish? Even if Ritsuka resolved to continue fighting no matter the odds, that determination alone would have been meaningless. 

It wasn’t like every other human had given up. It was simply that their will to live and fight had been meaningless. 

Even the thread-like narrow chance to  _ save everyone _ was a miracle — created by everyone who had built Chaldea. 

Every meeting with a Servant who chose to help them along the way was a miracle — possible only because those heroes had lived their lives so grandly that the world itself remembered them. 

“Heh. I agree,” Rama said, crossing his arms and nodding lightly. “It was a miracle this era endured so long. But it was a miracle created by all the people of this nation. As their king, you should feel pride.” 

Edison huffed. “I am a president, not a king!” 

“Um...” Mash drew out. “But were you... elected?” 

“Oh no, you had to say that...” Helena muttered, hiding her face in her hands while Edison spluttered and then began to protest emotionally. 

The discussion had derailed there for a while, bringing some levity to their campsite that night, something that had become increasingly hard to come by as they neared the end of their march. 

And now, Washington was in front of them. 

It was probably not the Washington DC from 2017, Ritsuka thought. Although far too modern, there were no skyscrapers, no concrete highways, and the shape of the buildings just looked off to his senses. It was probably not even just one Washington from a single point in the timeline — patches of the city appeared drastically different from each other, the divide between blocks too sharp and clear to be natural. 

The South Army drew to a stop just before entering the city limits — too abrupt as well, compared to the untouched landscape around it — for a final chance to rest and organize their forces. Once they began to move, it would be a final push to the White House itself. 

“I didn’t let the scouts go in too far, but we can assume the entire place will be crawling with anything Medb can summon up,” Rama said. “We don’t know if they have any more Servants on their side, but there will probably be something on the level of the dragon at least. Not to mention… Cu Chulainn.” 

Mash and Ritsuka exchanged a look, while Nightingale’s expression darkened. The four of them who had faced Cu Chulainn in person knew what kind of opponent he was. 

Even with Rama at full strength now, it would not be an easy battle. 

“Will the troops be alright fighting in that kind of place?” Rama changed the subject, turning to Edison. “Terrain can determine the outcome of a battle, and the city will be very different from a plain or a forest.” 

“Yes, it’ll be urban warfare,” Edison said. “It’ll bring down our efficiency, but they do have basic training for even this kind of setting.” 

“I doubt the Celtic warriors will be able to use the city all that well either,” Helena said. 

Rama nodded, and the group began to disperse to make their final preparations and oversee the troops. Only Rama himself didn’t move, closing his eyes and standing motionless, lost in thought. Eyeing him for a moment, Nightingale turned to shoot Ritsuka a meaningful look, which he accepted with a helpless smile. Satisfied, she departed as well. 

“Are you ready?” Ritsuka asked Rama, moving to stand next to him, while Mash hovered at his side. 

Blinking, Rama turned to look at him — and smiled. “As ready as I was when I faced Ravana.” 

“...Were you ready then?” 

“Not at all!” Rama laughed. “I still wasn’t ready at all. And yet, I had felt certain I would win. Not because it was my destiny but because I couldn’t imagine giving in. It had felt like… I was filled to bursting. I had received so much — Sita’s love, my brother’s loyalty, the support from Hanuman and so many others. And I felt so much love for them in return. Against the hollow emptiness of the demon king… it was no comparison. I would win. I knew it in my heart.” 

Ritsuka only listened silently, but Mash nodded along in complete agreement.    
  
“Yes! Me too!” she insisted, her hands clenching into fists excitedly. “I know that feeling too! Being given so much, like you’re overflowing with it… so you can push back all your fear and your doubts because there isn’t room for them anymore. Being completely certain even if there’s no logic to it. I feel like that when I’m fighting with Senpai!” 

‘Mash…’ 

A larger hand slipped into Mash’s, making a faint blush spread over her cheeks. Ducking her head, she smiled and squeezed gently. 

“Heh. You two are a good Master and a good Servant. It's no wonder you made it this far,” Rama said, with the praising tone of an elder. “It’s good. If it wasn’t for Chaldea, this era would already be done for. But thanks to you, we still have a chance. I too am proud to wield my sword for you, for these soldiers, and for humanity.” 

“Thank you,” Ritsuka said simply. “We’ll be counting on you!” 

~.~ 

The South Army had only just set out, passing the first buildings, when Ritsuka’s communicator beeped suddenly and Doctor Roman’s anxious voice rang out over the noise of the machinery. 

“Fujimaru-kun! We have incoming!” 

Ristuka tense, and so did Mash next to him. They shared the same thought — there would be no reason for Doctor Roman to sound like that over ordinary enemies. It could only be... 

“This Spirit Origin reading... It’s Cu Chulainn!” 

“Tch!” Clicking his tongue, Rama moved to dash to the front of the army. If ordinary soldiers encountered Cu Chulainn, after all, they would simply be massacred. However, before he could take more than a step, an arm pressed firmly against his chest, pushing him back. He turned in surprise, having failed to notice anyone approach his side. 

It was Scathach, who had been almost entirely absent all through their march to Washington. 

But with her student’s approach, she had returned as well. 

“There’s no need,” she said without looking at Rama. “He’s already here.” 

Gripping her shield, Mash stepped in front of Ritsuka. Together, all of them looked up. A single figure had appeared atop the pedestal of a long destroyed statue up ahead, its silhouette nearly inhuman. Coldy, Cu Chulainn swept his eyes over the gathered leaders of the South Army, until his gaze stopped on Ritsuka. 

“Now let's see... You’re the famed Master?” he said, his red eyes seeming to glow in the shadow of his hood. “What, shaking all over? My mistake for thinking you'd be a veteran hero.”

He was right — Ritsuka couldn’t help shaking. He couldn’t even think of a single thing to say, staring back at Cu Chulainn. 

“Please wait!” Unexpectedly, Mash called out, moving more directly between Ritsuka and Cu Chulainn. Her voice was high pitched with desperation. “Does it really have to be like this? You helped us before, in Fuyuki! You’re not a person who wants to see everything destroyed, right?” 

“I don't remember that,” Cu Chulainn said indifferently. “That version of me was a completely different guy.”

They had more or less guessed that from the start, and it was something to be expected. Doctor Roman had warned them long ago that Servants often didn’t retain the memories of their previous summonings. The fact that Elisabeth had known them in Septem had been an aberration, not the norm. 

With that form, this Cu Chulainn didn’t even look like the same person as his Caster self. 

But. 

“But...” Mash murmured, conflicted. 

That Caster had protected them and the Director when they were at their most vulnerable and helpless. He had taught Mash how to use her Noble Phantasm and the first steps to being a Servant. 

It was hard to accept. However, there was no choice. 

“Mash,” Ritsuka said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t pull her back, but Mash understood. 

“...I know,” she murmured. “We have to fight.” 

“Yes,” Scathach agreed, stepping past Rama and making her way forward between them and Cu Chulainn, “but not yet. Not him. Your target is the Holy Grail and Medb. This one... leave him to me.” 

This was what she had promised to do when she joined them and the battle that had been predetermined ever since she chose to save them back then. Scathach didn’t wait for any confirmation or words of parting — spinning the crimson spear in her hand, she dashed forward without warning, too fast for the eye to follow. 

Even so, Cu Chulainn turned to meet her strike as she appeared behind him in a flash. Raising his hand, he caught her Gae Bolg’s shaft and gripped it tightly, so she wouldn’t be able to draw it back. Undeterred, Scathach simply dug in her heels and… heaved, lifting Cu Chulainn’s far larger bulk straight off his feet. It was a feat possible only for a great hero, or at least a Servant. 

“Take this!” she yelled, slamming him into the ground with a thunderous explosion that sent up a cloud of dust and cracks straight across the paved street. 

“Right!” Rama snapped into action as well, yelling over the sounds of the battle. “Let’s go! Everyone, get a move on!” 

On his command, the army surged forward, giving a wide berth to the two Celtic heroes. The transport Ritsuka and Mash had been riding jerked into motion as well, the engine roaring as the driver gunned it. In the chaotic rush ahead, there was another explosion as Cu Chulainn and Scathach continued their battle, and a blast of displaced air from a powerful blow tore over their heads, cutting through the dust. 

Ritsuka tried to glance back, but he could only catch a glimpse of crimson and someone’s unclear silhouette before a building cut off his view. 

It would be Scathach’s battle now. 

Their goal was still up ahead. 

“Stay alert, there’s more readings up ahead, and they’re strong,” Doctor Roman’s voice came over the comm unit. 

“I see them,” Rama said curtly. “They’re a grade above the Celtic warriors we faced so far. Those must be the elites... Shadow Servants.”

“We’re analyzing the enemy magical energy wavelengths. We’ve confirmed Shadow Servants, along with the soldiers, chimeras and something else,” Doctor Roman reported. “Queen Medb is going all out!” 

Unexpectedly, it was Mash who spoke up. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice firm despite how tightly she was gripping her shield. “We won't lose to enemies like that after all we've been through! Master, let's go!”

“All units, forward!” Rama echoed, his voice ringing out across the army. “This is the last battle of this war!” 

“For America! And for THE WORLD!!” Edison roared. 

Given the size of their army and jagged, unnatural layout of the streets, their advance quickly became chaotic, even more than the open battlefields at Montgomery had been. Even Ritsuka was soon forced to continue on foot in the haphazard maze of streets, and the troops around them were constantly shifting, being pushed back by enemies or charging ahead instead. The only constants were Mash by his side, the flash of red that was Rama ahead in the lead, and Edison’s roars. 

The city changed as they progressed deeper in. At first, it had been like a patchwork, every block slightly too different to have come from the same place or era, but all of it had been more or less recognizable as modern to Ritsuka. He had never been to the real Washington, but the buildings and the streets had at least looked like something he’d seen in American movies. 

Soon, that was no longer the case. 

Unnatural structures that Ritsuka recognized as monster nests grew more common, at first between the buildings but soon taking over them entirely. The facades along the streets were covered with wide swathes of what might have been paint, forming parts of unclear symbols. And even jagged spikes of some unknown substance began to appear, piercing through streets and buildings alike. 

By the time they burst into a wide, open area that had probably once been the National Mall so often filmed in movies, the scenery was barely recognizable as a human city, but less Washington, DC. 

“Just head straight, the White House is ahead!” Doctor Roman instructed, then added under his breath, “For some reason…” 

All the landmarks had been rearranged, as well as defaced. Lincoln’s statue had been beheaded where it still sat, and the spire of the Washington Monument was covered in deep gouges. The reflecting pool beneath it appeared to be filled with blood. 

And the White House beyond...

Mash and Doctor Roman made a choking sound of disgust at the same time. 

“Master! The White House... It's transformed…” Mash complained, sounding more put out than horrified. Ritsuka understood. He’d also had some expectations toward the famous landmark he’d seen in so many movies. It was something that could be considered the cultural heritage of any modern person, if only thanks to Hollywood. 

And yet!

“Wh-What the hell is this!? Are you telling me this is truly the White House!?” Doctor Roman demanded, aghast. 

Ritsuka could tell the exact moment Edison and Helena’s group caught up with them, because America’s Presi-king let out a heartbroken, maddened howl. 

“...Hm. Such extremely poor taste,” Rama commented far more mildly. “The original White House was far more beautiful.” 

“Unhygienic,” Nightingale judged simply and succinctly. It was probably a grave insult from her. 

“Yes, yes, it’s terrible. Get it together, Mister Edison!” Helena called out. “There’s more incoming!” 

She was right. Monsters and Celtic warriors were pouring out of every building along the skewed National Mall, and Ritsuka vaguely wondered if Medb had been using the exhibits in the museums as catalysts. The path between them and the White House was completely packed with enemies, and even the wyverns that had been circling far overhead, unable to swoop in between the buildings earlier, were quickly descending down on them. 

“Even more of them! Can Queen Medb really create an infinite number of soldiers!?” Doctor Roman wondered. Then next moment, there was a muffled yelp — Da Vinci found his commentary unhelpful. 

“There’s something else incoming,” she reported. “Based on the readings—” 

A figure more than twice as tall as a man and many times thicker burst its way out of one building, roaring. Mash and Ritsuka dived aside as a chunk of the masonry hurtled toward them like a meteor. 

“—a Spriggan!” 

It was overwhelming. How long had they already been fighting? How much longer would they have to fight? Even though their destination was right in front of them, the gulf between it and them was as impassable as a sea. 

It really was the last battle, where no one held anything back. 

Far away, between the long since defaced front columns of the White House, he could see a pale figure — a woman, watching their struggles with a smile he couldn’t see but could feel down to his bones. 

Bolts of lightning cut a path through the hordes of enemies in front of them as Edison roared, only for the ranks to close just as quickly. Rapid blasts of magic followed, sweeping through the monsters and the mindless warriors. The mechanized infantry’s machine guns rattled away without pause all around them. And leading the charge — Rama and his shining blade. 

Pushing back his sweaty hair, Ritsuka took a deep breath and hurried to keep pace with Mash and the flow of bodies around him. 

The real final battlefield was ahead. 

~.~

  
  


**Notes** : 

-It is only now I realize that I forgot Fou. Literally completely forgot, has not been mentioned even once. Uh... tbh it’s kind of too late to fix it, so he’s going to continue being absent until I do a full story cleanup at some point. 

-Cutting Cu vs Scathach mostly due to laziness. 

-Mostly breaking the chapter here because I got tired of writing it lol. The next chapter is part 2 of this, then we’ll break to the north battlefield. 

~.~


	22. Final Destination 2 (Chaldea)

**Chapter 22: Final Destination 2**

Rama was first to finally break free of the still chaotic battle across the National Mall and race across the last stretch toward the White House. His burning gaze was fixed directly on Medb, who sat waiting between the columns in the front of the building. Her legs swung carelessly, and she continued to smile, though with a narrow-eyed edge of something like annoyance. 

Yes, it was annoying to her — to have so many pathetic fools insist on struggling all across the garden she had taken for herself. 

“Hagh!” With a yell, Rama brought down his sword, crushing the base of the colonnade Medb had been sitting on. 

However, Medb herself had already gracefully flipped away, jumping back into the shadows under the portico roof. 

“My, my, so rough~” she chuckled, spreading her fingers over her mocking smile. “Such a venerable hero, and yet such poor behavior toward a queen… What would your lovely wife say to that?” She laughed, her eyes narrow with amusement. “Good, good! I like that glare! Go ahead and struggle with all your determination! It’ll be even more exciting crushing you under my heel!” 

“You—!” Rama growled, furious. 

However, he knew better than to chase after her recklessly. Although Medb projected a lazy air of total ease, her stand remained light, ready to dance away again at any moment. And if Washington had been made into her capital, a nest of endless monsters, then White House had certainly long since become her palace. There was no telling what lurked inside. 

Seeing him hold himself back, Medb clicked her tongue in mild disappointment and began to slowly back away toward the front door that stood open and gaping behind her. Her pale dress and hair swayed with each step, ethereal and seductive. 

Forcing down his irritation, Rama straightened and smirked. “Sorry, but we don't have time for idle chit chat,” he drawled between clenched teeth. “We'll be taking you down now.”

The reason he had forced himself to calm was because it was now indeed ‘we’ — the others were finally catching up. With a roar, Edison dropped in between two columns on Rama’s right, Helena clinging to his back, while Nightingale, Mash and Ritsuka ran up from the left. But despite being outnumbered, Medb showed no concern. 

“Well,” she said, chuckling, “we’ll see about that.” 

Before any of them could stop her, she fled into the building, and the dark shapes that could be seen beyond the front door closed ranks behind her. 

“More Shadow Servants!” Mash noted grimly. 

“We just have to keep pushing forward!” Rama said. “Let’s go!” 

Satisfied that they would have his back, he charged in, his indestructible sword smashing through the first rank of enemies. Shadow Servants were weaker than the real thing, but the biggest difference was only their inability to use Noble Phantasms — otherwise, their strength could be only a fraction below properly materialized Servants. This didn’t stop Rama from scattering them like bowling pins, proving his power as a great hero whose legend stretched back thousands of years. 

Edison followed on his heels, his great bulk smashing apart the door frame and tearing sections off the walls to let him pass. Helena was behind him, while Mash, Ritsuka and — surprisingly — Nightingale brought up in the rear. 

Inside, Medb had already vanished, but Rama seemed to have her trail, cutting and crushing his way through the enemies toward a corridor deeper into the building. There were no monsters in the enclosed space, but the Shadow Servants, druids and originary warriors continued to emerge from every doorway without end. By the time they had moved into the front hall, the way back was already closed off. 

There really was no choice but to move forward. 

“Her soldiers can’t really be infinite, can they?” Ritsuka wondered, glancing around with growing unease. Somehow, this was...

“She has the Holy Grail, so it’s theoretically possible,” Doctor Roman said, his voice crackling as the speakers in the communicator strained to make him audible over the battle. “At the very least, she has infinite power to continue creating them without end.”

“I would hesitate to call it infinite,” Nightingale said, punctuated by the bang of her gun firing. “Like a disease spreading, it may be infinite given enough time, but we've been defeating them faster than they're being created.”

This was just a guess, of course, since they had no way of knowing how quickly Medb could create her soldiers, but it was a well-founded guess. After all, their rate of destroying enemies was... extremely high. 

“You could say that we're cornering her, both in Magecraft and science,” Doctor Roman agreed. 

Nightingale frowned distractedly. “I wonder about that. She doesn’t appear like someone cornered.” 

She was right. Their group had been quickly moving deeper into the White House, hall after hall and chamber after chamber, and they hadn’t been charging in blindly. Every time they advanced, Medb would appear ahead of them, smiling slyly, and then vanish around a corner or doorway. Rather than desperate, she appeared to be playing with them. 

“...Is it a trap?” Ritsuka said. 

“This is the seat of her power, and it wasn’t like we could hide our approach. It would be stranger if she didn’t have something prepared,” Doctor Roman admitted. “But at least she won’t be able to give you the run around much longer. You’re getting close to the place with the highest magical energy readings. That must be her throne room.” 

“We're just one step away, Master!” Mash agreed. “Let’s go!”

Ritsuka could tell when Rama, Edison and Helena reached the end of the line, throwing open the doors and rushing into the throne room — their headlong pace suddenly slowed, and their footsteps echoed in the abrupt silence of the last room. As Ritsuka, Mash and Nightingale followed them in, the doors slammed shut behind them, blocking off the remaining enemies outside. 

Medb was waiting on the other end of the chamber. 

Spread languidly over the throne, she smiled as she watched them with cold eyes. 

“So you've come. Of course, those Shadow Servants really weren't good enough,” she chuckled. “Oh dear, I guess this is the end of playing queen. Too bad... I had fun.” 

“I assure you, the people of this era did not,” Rama said coldly. 

Medb sighed dramatically and shook her head. “You do-gooder heroes of justice are always like that. Isn’t that just their own blindness, to not understand their place? That is, to love me and surrender everything to me. I am Queen Medb, the one who is most beloved by all and the one to whom the world should belong.” She smiled. “Of course, the one I love is Cu, so everything mine should also be given to him. And just like that, everything in this era has simply followed its natural course.”

“That’s—!” Mash protested instinctively, horrified. However, Ritsuka quickly placed a hand on her shoulder. 

There was no point in protesting. 

They had seen enough that he understood — some Heroic Spirits were simply not possible to reason with. Their values and beliefs were incompatible with Chaldea’s mission, and their personalities were hopelessly twisted. 

Perhaps in other circumstances... If they were potential allies, Ritsuka would have tried to speak with them. But when facing them as enemies, he knew there was no way to talk them down. 

“Your illness is chronic and incurable,” Nightingale judged, with the same thoughts. 

Rama’s perspective was even more cutting — and more unacceptable to Medb. 

“Love?” he scoffed. “If you think what you feel toward Cu Chulainn or what you received was love, you’re completely delusional. You’ve never felt love. If you had, you’d understand! Love gives you the will to protect and the strength to stand against fear. If you can’t recognize that much, that only shows your failure as a queen — and as a hero!” 

With shocking abruptness, Medb’s languid expression slipped off her face, leaving only chilling blankness. 

“I’ve decided. You’re not my type at all,” she said, her tone distant and almost bored. However, her eyes never left Rama as she rose to her feet, her white fur cloak sliding off her shoulders. “I am Medb, queen of Connacht. I am the one that the king trusted with everything, and I won’t lose to you!” 

Ritsuka had to blink quickly, momentarily disoriented. Medb’s beauty and charm were legendary for a reason, and she seemed to almost glow with the strength of her presence. 

...No, she really was glowing. The magical energy radiating from her had become dense enough to be seen with the naked eye. 

“Be careful,” Doctor Roman murmured. “Based on these readings, she’s using the Holy Grail as a magical reactor core. That means her magical energy will be nearly inexhaustible!” 

“I am Rama, king of Kosala,” Rama responded just as coldly. “In the name of my wife Sita, I will not lose! For the people of this era, I shall smite thee as an iron hammer. This is the end, Queen Medb!”

As they approached Washington, they had discussed their strategy for the battles ahead. Or rather, they had been forced to admit they knew next to nothing of Medb’s abilities. Her class, her Noble Phantasms, her skills... all of it was unknown. Not even the United Western States had seen her in battle before. At best, they could guess that she would have a Charm-like ability, targeted toward men specifically, but beyond that... 

They were going in blind. There was no choice. 

Even so, Rama didn’t bother with something like playing it safe and observing. As soon as he had spoken his piece, he rushed as Medb, his sword drawn back to strike. 

Medb deftly darted aside and, spinning on one heel, drove her other into his side. 

Despite the speed of her attack, Rama wasn’t entirely taken by surprise. He managed to twist around and use his sword to block her kick, but the force behind it still sent him flying. Edison followed in the gap, bringing down a massive, lightning-cloaked fist with a roar. Just like before, Medb dodged aside, but before she could counterattack, several blasts of magical energy shot toward her from Helena’s floating grimoire. 

Medb didn’t bother moving. With just a flick of her hand, she batted the magic aside, leaving it to dissipate harmlessly. Her eyes followed the circling magic tome, and she smirked. A jump and a spinning kick, and she sent it flying like a soccer ball straight back at Helena. 

“Oof!” The air knocked out of her lungs, Helena went tumbling head over heels. 

“Ahaha~ My magical energy is running so high! This might be the first time I've experienced this!” Medb laughed, her eyes dancing with glee at her easy control of the battle. “Here, take this! Medb… beaaaam!” 

A shine ran across her tiara, magical energy condensing on it sharply and dangerously, and — indeed — a wide beam no weaker than Helena’s blasts shot out. 

“Mash!” Ritsuka was already yelling as he felt the shift in magical energy. 

“Haaah!” 

Rama was long since up after Medb’s attack, and Edison was far more agile than his size suggested. There was only one target that could have been taken by surprise — Helena, who hadn’t yet recovered. Dashing in front of her, Mash dug the foot of her shield into the floor and angled so the force of Medb’s beam rolled off its surface, lessening the impact. It was something she had learned to do through experience, instead of trying to withstand the full brunt of any attack she blocked. 

“Thanks,” Helena muttered, wincing as she scrambled back to her feet. 

“She has a high Magic Resistance,” Doctor Roman reported in a tense, hushed tone. “It should be at least B. She won’t take much damage even from a Greater Ritual.” 

“Madame Blavatsky!” Ritsuka called out. 

“I get it! Sorry, looks like I’m only support this time!” Helena said, clicking her tongue in irritation. 

Obediently, she fell back to Ritsuka’s side and began to quickly shift through her non-attack abilities — and the possible gaps in Magic Resistance. In the heat of battle, it was deeply unlikely she’d be able to put together a magecraft strong enough to damage Medb directly. But that protection wasn’t necessarily foolproof either. 

But for now... 

Setting her grimoire in the air, she sent its pages turning with a gesture. A faint glow surrounded her — and then the rest of their group, as their magical energy was stimulated by her Magical Tuning. 

“Good. I’m leaving Master to you,” Nightingale said, finally stepping away from Ritsuka, her gun already in her hand. 

It was surprising she had held herself back this long, and a far cry from the way she usually lost her head and charged in at the first sign of conflict — to say nothing of the mindless rampage Helena had seen her fall into. Having a good Master really was a special thing. 

Medb only laughed, high and terribly pleased with herself. “Wonderful, wonderful!” she chanted. She swayed from side to side, as if she couldn’t contain herself, and her expression was bordering on manic. Directly channeling the power of the Holy Grail was… most likely not something her Spirit Origin was ever meant to endure. 

Whether that would work in their favor or not was debatable. 

The battle resumed swiftly, the sound of Nightingale’s gun like the starting signal of a race. Edison and Rama closed in simultaneously. Electricity and a divine power that was neither lightning nor flame flashed across the overly ornate walls and polished floors of Medb’s throne room, leaving jagged trails of destruction in their wake. The narrow space was a hindrance to everyone, but even so, Medb continuously managed to dance away without a scratch. 

Rama was no longer holding back or hiding anything. Not only his sword, but also numerous other weapons flashed out, all glowing the power of his Noble Phantasm, Vishnu Baja. Clubs that crushed the floor, thrown chakrams cutting through the air, and even a javelin. 

It was a whip that finally managed to wrap around Medb’s ankle, dragging her off balance as she tried to dodge again. 

Although she hit the ground with a yelp, she was still able to roll aside and avoid Edison’s downward punch that shook the entire throne room. Twisting around, she kicked him away — with great ease, despite their difference in bulk.

“Oh~ How impertinent of you! You're getting me excited,” she laughed. “I’ll have to punish you! A lot! To my— Guh!” 

She didn’t manage to dodge Nightingale’s claw-hand strike to her kidneys. It was enough to stagger her, leaving her open to Nightingale’s relentless follow up attacks. 

“Cleansing! Sterilizing! Preventive care!” the nurse of steel chanted, with another palm strike, a double handed chest strike, and an overhead hammer blow. “Emergency treatment! Good night!”

That one was a mortar to the face. Ritsuka couldn’t help wincing — both for Medb, who was sent flying, and for Nightingale, who hadn’t moved out of the blast’s range herself. 

“Well done! And with my blade, I won’t fall behind either!” Rama said. Magical energy gathered in his palm, shining brightly, and an array of weapons appeared in the air around Medb. With a sharp gesture, he brought them down all at once without mercy. 

There was only a moment’s reprieve. “YOU!” Medb shouted, furious, and her aura burst out violently, washing over all of them like a wave. “You think that’ll work?! Then how’s this? HUH?!” 

‘This’ was a massive bull that rushed out at them, Medb clinging to its back. It bucked wildly as it crashed into their loose formation and sent Ritsuka and Helena quickly scrambling further out of its range. While Rama and Helena could only rush to avoid it, Edison boldly tried to grab it by horns, digging in his heels and letting out a strained, furious roar as he managed to momentarily bring it to a stand still. 

But only momentarily. With a deep low and a toss of its head, the bull threw him aside, hard enough to completely demolish the wall he hit. 

“That bull must be part of her Noble Phantasm!” Doctor Roman shouted over the chaos. “Two of them appeared in the Táin Bó Cúailnge... Then, her full Noble Phantasm will be a chariot!” 

A chariot... that could work in their favor. The throne room was large, but not that large. Even though it seemed to be reinforced by or at least steeped with magic, summoning her full Noble Phantasm there would be difficult for Medb. 

...Medb herself would have certainly known that. So why had she led them there? 

Why had she fought them inside the White House at all, where her nearly endless troops could not help her? 

It was the same question again — was this a trap? 

And if it was, was there anything they could do about it? 

“We have to finish this,” Ritsuka muttered, gritting his teeth. They couldn’t let her draw this own indefinitely — it was just instinct, but he felt certain of this. He covered the two remaining command spells on the back of his hand with his other palm, mentally flipping through the possible orders he could give and the spells of his Mystic Code. Anything that could give them the edge, if only they could find an opening... 

Next to him in the backline, Helena pursed her lips and nodded. “I know,” she said without looking at him. Watching the battle worriedly, she finally seemed to come to a decision. “Alright, alright! Leave it to me. I’ll show you the wisdom of Mahatma! ...I hope!” 

Closing her eyes, she concentrated, her lips moving in some incantation Ritsuka couldn’t make out. 

The one to finally stop the bull’s rampage was Mash. Stepping in front of it, she planted her shield, and the beast ran into it with a resounding clang. It staggered back half a step, lowing piteously, before dissolving into magic particles, leaving only Medb behind. 

She gave a short, sharp laugh, landing lightly on the cracked tiles. She kicked off just as lightly, launching herself at Mash — but not as an attack. When she hit the shield Mash still held up, Mebd grabbed the top and neatly flipped over it. Her eyes widened, Mash could only turn her head to follow the graceful figure passing over her head to end up directly behind her. 

A sharp kick to the small of her back sent her flying. 

“Then how about this?” Medb called out, magical energy gathering for her next attack before they could even begin to recover. “Fergus My Love!” 

“What?!” Rama protested as an unfortunately familiar spiral sword appeared in her hands. “That again? But I defeated him!” 

Medb laughed. “Why wouldn’t I be able to use my dear lover’s things? Now let me show you the power of our love! Take thaaat~!” 

She swung the sword down. It was a lovely swing, more grace than skill, and the power behind it was certainly much less than the Caladbolg in Fergus’s hands, but the rainbow that blew out across the ruined throne room was still doubtlessly a powerful Noble Phantasm. 

Mash let out a short yelp of surprise, unable to dodge or guard, but Rama managed to dart in and knock them off away, at least enough that the attack didn’t hit them point blank. Nightingale hurriedly took refuge among a pile of rubble, but Edison could only brace himself as magical energy burst through the floor, twisting into a great spiral. 

Rushing to where Helena was still motionless in concentration upon whatever magecraft she was trying to invoke, Ritsuka drew on his Mystic Code to hastily throw a defensive spell over both of them. He could only hope it would be enough. It was designed to withstand this much — but not for a prolonged period. 

Medb’s laughter rang out over the maelstrom of swirling power. 

Suddenly, Helena jerked next to Ritsuka. Her eyes had flown open, and her smooth expression of concentration shifted into a satisfied, confident smirk. “Alright!” she explained. “I’ve got you now!” 

With a sweep of her arms, the violent flow of magical energy around them changed and reversed, forming a second eye in the storm. Not a Noble Phantasm — but at the very least a Greater Ritual, something that should have been outside the capabilities of a modern mage without extensive preparations, if then, but could be achieved by the genius Helena Blavatsky. 

It was not one of her own spells either. She had explained this skill to them before — by communicating with Mahatma, she could employ many other Magical Foundations that should have been outside her knowledge. And this one was… 

“The wisdom of Mahatma flows through me!” Helena declared. “Activate: Rune Matrix!”

As she had said, it was rune magecraft. 

Part of Helena’s skill activated based on luck, the reason she did not use it more extensively, and perhaps the specific magecraft had also been chosen by chance, but it was appropriate in a certain way. This was a spell descended from the runes used by Cu Chulainn as a Caster, the one Mash and Ritsuka had met a year prior in the burning Singularity of Fuyuki. 

Eighteen runes shone blindingly around the perimeter of their battlefield, encircling them. Ritsuka couldn’t begin to guess their meaning or exact purpose, but the effect was immediate. 

With a startled yelp, Medb stumbled, her hands going slack around Caladbolg’s hilt. 

The glow of the Holy Grail’s power around her had faded almost to nothing — certainly only a momentary weakening, but an opening. 

It was all that Rama needed, to regain his feet and counterattack. 

“—Right there!” he called out, the sword in his hand already spinning into a disk of light and power. “My blade... release your rage! I shall dedicate this blow to my wife! Go, BRAHMASTRA!” 

His Noble Phantasm plowed into Medb before she could even think to dodge. She screamed in either surprise or pain, as she was lifted off her feet and sent flying across the throne room. The wall she crashed into came down completely, flooding the chamber with billowing clouds of dust. 

In the deafening silence that followed, something skittered across the cracked and torn up floor. 

“Did... did we do it?” Mash wondered, coughing slightly. 

“It was a clean hit,” Rama said neutrally. He lowered his outstretched arm slowly, peering into the dust and rubble with focused, unwavering attention. 

“Her Spirit Origin readings are crashing, it’s over. And... I can detect the Holy Grail! It should be separated from her,” Doctor Roman reported urgently. “If you can get it—” 

“Right away!” Mash snapped into action, striding forward quickly. As she approached the Grail that had skittered across the floor, she could sense its location easily, and she bent down to pick it up. It could be stored in her shield until they returned to Chaldea... 

“Mash, be careful!” Ritsuka called after her. “We still haven’t seen the Demon God Pillar here!” 

“Yes, Sen— Aah!”

“Mash!!” 

Before her fingers could graze the surface of the golden chalice,  _ something _ had thrown Mash aside. 

A hulking shadow stood among the settling dust, appearing too quickly and suddenly to follow. It turned slowly —  _ he _ turned slowly, surveying what remained of the throne room. There was no expression on his face. 

“...Tch. You're in pretty bad shape, Medb,” Cu Chulainn commented. 

Ritsuka’s stomach dropped, leaving him feeling as if he had stepped into a bottomless pit. They had considered this scenario, of course. It wasn’t the worst case — but it was still terrifying, echoing the complete helplessness of their previous overwhelming defeat against the Mad King. 

They had run out of time. 

Scathach... Scathach must have lost. 

There wasn’t time to consider that. Yanking his thoughts back in line with an almost physical sensation of jarring, Ritsuka tried to check everyone’s status as subtly as he could. 

They had all taken a beating from the battle with Medb, though no one was out for the count. Rama was watching Cu Chulainn with a set, controlled look that gave away nothing, slowly and silently moving to regroup with the rest. Edison and Nightingale were picking themselves out of the rubble, grim and tense. Next to Ritsuka, Helena took a deep breath, her face pale, more with fear than exhaustion. 

That left only Mash. 

Ritsuka couldn’t see where she had been knocked away, but he could feel the line of magical energy still connecting them. No matter how much he wanted to send a healing spell down that line to her, he forced himself to hold back. His own magecraft was still far insufficient, and the spells in his Mystic Code uniform took time to restore themselves. A far more brutal battle was ahead of them, and that healing spell might spell the difference between life and death down the line. 

The relief when he saw her dark armor flash among the rubble as she scurried away from Cu Chulainn punched the air from his lungs. 

Fortunately, Cu Chulainn himself did not spare any of them a look, only watching as Medb stumbled weakly toward him. Her white clothing and her long hair were splotched with blood, and her legs gave out before she could reach him, leaving another long streak of red across the broken wall she slumped against. 

“Heheh… I feel like I could die at any moment,” Medb admitted weakly. “But I fulfilled my role… I really, really did it. ...Will you praise me?”

Her role… 

Something cold went down Ritsuka’s spine. 

Cu Chulainn made a quiet sound, almost absent-minded. “You did pretty well,” he said without any particular intonation. It was impossible to tell whether he was being honest or mocking. “You defended your nation, as queen. You're a pretty capable woman, when you try.”

As praise went, it was lukewarm at best. Compared to everything Medb had done, no matter how much Ritsuka detested it personally, ‘you did pretty well’ far short. However, Medb’s worn, bloodied face lightened with genuine happiness. 

“...I'm glad. That's all I wanted to hear,” she murmured. “My wish came true. You've finally... become mine.” 

Quietly, under her breath, she began to laugh. Unlike her soft pleasure at Cu Chulainn’s words, it was a cold, dangerous sound, no matter how weak. 

“What role?” Ritsuka asked, the sound of his voice breaking the invisible wall that had seemingly separated the two sides since Cu Chulainn’s entrance. “What did you do?”

“Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha!” Throwing her head back, Medb broke into full throated laughter. “Don't you know my name? I'm Medb! Queen Medb! Don't you know of my greatest work, from my legend? The ‘Clan Calatin!’ You think you beat me? You think you stand a chance? You’re wrong! You and this era are done for!” 

Clan Calatin were a group of warriors meant to defeat the peerless hero, Cu Chulainn. Ritsuka knew that much from Doctor Roman’s briefings. 

But what did that have to do with—

“So that's your trump card? Very well then, summon them!” Rama snapped, thinking along the same lines. 

Medb only smirked, her face lit up by the golden glow coming from her dissolving form. “...Ahaha... I already did!”

Even as she vanished into motes of light, Cu Chulainn didn’t look at her again. Bending down, he picked up the golden chalice that had fallen between them and, after turning it over once in his hand, let it absorb into himself. 

“Doctor, what’s going on?” Ritsuka demanded, his voice low and tense. “There's nothing strange here...” 

“I... hang on,” Doctor Roman said distractedly over the communicator. “This can’t be right... What  _ is _ this? Is this even possible?” 

“Doctor?” 

Nightingale hissed, a short, furious sound. “Not here. The North Army.” 

“We’re… we’re picking up signatures that match the Demon God Pillars…” Doctor Roman said haltingly. “28 of them.” 

They had of course anticipated a Demon God Pillar appearing. It had happened in every Singularity, after all. But the rest of the acting director’s words made no sense, leaving Ritsuka frozen in shock. Surely he had misheard? That wasn’t possible. Even Solomon himself, or whatever being claimed to be him in London, had only called four of them at once. 

28… 

Was that even...

“Is that really possible!?” Rama demanded, aghast but not entirely comprehending. Even if they had told him of the Demon God Pillars, he had never faced one himself. 

“She... she shoved an entire pack of Demon God Pillars into the framework of ‘Clan Calatin!’ 28 Pillars for 28 warriors, but that’s just...!” Doctor Roman rambled in disbelief. “It's theoretically possible for a wielder of the Holy Grail! It's definitely possible... But a total of 28 of them!? A Heroic Spirit can't possibly come up with something that terrifying! I mean, is it even possible through Magecraft!?

28... 

On the north front... 

Feeling lightheaded, Ritsuka covered his mouth with one hand. Even four of them had been... and this was... 

“Of course it’s possible. I just said — she’s pretty capable, when she tries,” Cu Chulainn said, deighing to address them for the first time. “She was always clinging to me like a briar vine, and the moment she becomes good, she disappears looking satisfied... Just my luck.” 

There was a faint note of something in his voice, some emotion that, while unreadable, had not been present before. It must have been because Medb had vanished. They had theorized that she was the one who had summoned this Cu Chulainn — or even outright created him, like Gilles had done with Dark Jeanne in Orleans. His overwhelming strength had come from his nature as an existence linked to this Singularity’s Holy Grail. 

Without her, the natural corrective forces would begin to affect him again… 

But this was a distant thought to Ritsuka. 

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Cu Chulainn decided. “Everything has already come to an end. Even the Hero of Benefaction won’t be able to stand against twenty-eight Demon God Pillars. And once your North Army collapses, the last remnants of America will be wiped as well and this era will disappear from history. But before that happens…” Something like a smile flickered across his face. “Entertain me a bit. One last fight!” 

He finally looked like himself — like the Caster from Fuyuki. 

“Gladly!” Rama snapped. “Let’s go!” 

...But would that even matter? Even if they fought… 

“Senpai!” Ritsuka jumped, spinning around to watch Mash run to his side. She looked worse for wear, but she moved with purpose, and an expression of concentration was on her face. “Are you ready? We have to win this fight!” 

“But…” he dithered. 

Mash understood, but she didn’t waver. Looking at him intently, she said, “We have to believe in Karna and everyone on the northern front! We can still repair this era if we take back the Holy Grail before it collapses!” 

“That’s right!” Doctor Roman chimed in hurriedly. “Listen, you have to defeat Cu Chulainn. It’s our last chance!” 

However, it was still a chance. That was what mattered. 

“Right!” Nodding sharply, Ritsuka forced himself to calm. “Then let’s do this!” 

He could only spare a single thought for everyone at the northern front. 

‘Please, just hold out a little longer!’ 

~.~

**Notes:**

-Not a lot of people have Medb in their Support setup! It took a lot refreshing to get a look at her animations. Getting her translated voice lines was… even worse. Her being able to use Fergus’s sword is from her materials. It’s also mentioned in her summer alt voice line for Fergus. 

-Similarly, Helena being able to use other kinds of magecraft is from one of her skill descriptions. I’m not really clear on how that works, but the specific rune spell she uses is intended as a watered down version of Caster Cu’s unused second NP, Ochd Deug Odin, which can also be called “Matrix Wodan,” since it uses all the primordial runes. Helena is doing a knock off with normal runes tho. The original does damage (not used here) and “removes all buff effects from enemies, and reduces all their stats by 1 rank.”

-Rama got his animation update, yeah! And new voice lines! They’re very cool <3

-Apologies, but Scathach vs Cu Chulainn Alter was entirely off screen. I don’t really know how that would go tbh. 

-Only the North Army and then the final battle left! What has the North Army been doing all this time? ...Being a bunch of idiots, actually! 

~.~


	23. North Side Story (Nero&Liz)

~.~ 

**Chapter 23: North Side Story**

According to the escape plan, Nero and Elisabeth should have gone in completely different directions when they, Helena and Sita fled Arjuna’s nefarious grasp. That was the entire point of splitting up. 

So why was it that the two of them found themselves staring at each other not even a day later? 

Nero looked at Elisabeth. Elisabeth looked at Nero. 

In perfect sync, they let out a sharp sigh of disgust. 

There was no need to say it — after a while, both of them had turned around and headed back, feeling like running away was just too boring, too pathetic, and not at all worthy of exceptional beauties like them. Unfortunately, Arjuna and whoever he had chosen to pursue were already long gone. 

The nerve of that guy, choosing someone else! Sharing this thought as well, Nero and Elisabeth both scowled. 

“...Insolent Red Lancer,” Nero said finally, trying to dispel her foul mood with a more familiar topic. “Must you continually appear before me? I have no desire to always be troubled by your unsightly presence.” 

“Hmph!” Elisabeth harrumphed with extra emphasis. Sticking out her nonexistent chest, she puffed up to the best of her ability. “What’s unsightly is that outfit! A bride with no groom in sight? Don’t you feel ashamed of being so desperate, you hag?” 

Nero gasped, clapping a hand to her chest. “Hag? What part of me is hag-like? I am the Flower of Olympia, and I am still in full bloom!” She stuck out her chest as well, which was a far more impressive gesture on her part. “Look upon my beauty in awe, you immature little hatchling!” 

In her current form, Elisabeth Bathory was only 14 years old. Compared to her older self, a mature beauty and a femme fatale of the highest caliber, she was indeed just a little hatchling. 

She was also four centimeters taller than Nero, even so. 

Trying to look down on her despite the lack of necessary height, Nero straightened her already ramrod spine and tilted back her chin. In response, Elisabeth did the same, until they were both straining to look at each other despite facing the sky. 

“...Haaah!” Simultaneously, they gave up, dropping the painful posture and gasping a deep breath of relief. 

“Let’s just forget that ever happened,” Elisabeth said. “I’m finally holding concerts and living my idol life, I don’t want some boor to spoil it.” 

“Indeed. His looks were good, but his manners were awful,” Nero agreed. “Best to put that kind of villain out of sight, out of mind. I was also pursuing my dream — Hollywood! The people of this era are quite suitable as an audience. They know how to appreciate my charm and skills! And that leader of theirs isn’t bad either! I just wish I could get into the coliseum ring with him…” She sighed wistfully, making a certain, somewhat ominous motion with her — like a chokehold. 

Elisabeth nodded along. “But you know, just in case that guy comes back… we could stick together this time,” she suggested. Looking aside, she twirled a strand of hair around one talon. “Just since he’s so stupidly strong, it’ll take both of us to kill him, if he shows his face.” 

“Oh-hoh! A splendid idea, my rival!” Nero agreed. “A joint recital!” 

“A collaboration between Golden Theater and Castle Csejte!” Elisabeth boasted. 

Together, they threw back their heads and laughed. 

The journey back to Kearney passed with a series of boasts about increasingly complex, showy and improbable acts, stunts and showpieces that the two of them absolutely swore they would include in their performance, all the better to wow the audience and prove that  _ she _ was the better entertainer, the most beloved. Even the city’s usual dreary and drab appearance did nothing to dampen their spirits. 

...The patrols were not running as regularly as they should have been, Nero noted in the back of her mind. As the emperor, she had been trained to notice these things. 

Something had changed while they were gone. 

Once they approached, she could tell that the contingent of mechanized infantry previously stationed at the city had been seriously depleted. More than half were gone, their posts empty, or manned by weaker ordinary soldiers. It probably made their return easier — unlike the stiff procedures of the mechanized troops, the completely human men let them through immediately, easily recognizing Elisabeth from her interrupted concert. 

The harried officer Nero managed to pull aside only shook his head. “Those Celt bastards are moving in for the final assault. Everyone is headed to the front,” he explained, before quickly excusing himself. 

“...Should we head to the front too then?” Elisabeth wondered. “Cheer on the troops? It doesn’t seem like anyone here is going to appreciate us.” 

She was right. That much was obvious from the tense, scared atmosphere as they headed into the city itself. 

Even though squads of soldiers or wagons with various objects rushed past with unsettling regularity, the streets were largely deserted. The ceaseless production had all but ground to a halt, most buildings standing empty and dark. The majority of the population seemed to be huddled within their homes, peering out of the soot-smudged windows fearfully, and the few groups that hid in the shadows of the side alleys often argued amongst themselves in hushed, furious whispers. 

The subject was always the same — to stay or to flee. 

“Where would we even go?!” a woman hissed at her husband, as their family — most likely — debated. 

They had already run, run, run for months. There was nowhere left to flee to. 

This era was at its limit. 

“It will indeed be the final assault, won’t it?” Nero mused. “If this country cannot win here, it will be destroyed.” 

And she was not at all confident that it  _ could _ win. 

“That’s too bad. I wanted to enjoy myself some more,” Elisabeth commented lightly, swinging her feet where she was perched on the scuffed up remnants of her concert stage. The square that had been packed with people barely a week back was now desolate and completely empty, aside from scattered rubbish that had been forgotten in light of far more pressing concerns. 

“Umu,” Nero made a vague sound of acknowledgement. 

The silence stretched between them. Until, finally, Elisabeth let a sharp huff of frustration. 

“I can’t take it!” she exclaimed, kicking sharply and leaning back until it looked like she was going to topple over. “It feels too weird!” 

“Umu, indeed,” Nero agreed, the same feelings coming loose in her chest. “It’s just not right! The fight to determine the fate of humanity — and we’re not even part of it!” 

“No Master! No purpose! We’re just hanging around!” 

“Disappearing with naught but a whimper would be simply disgraceful!” Nero declared, getting more and more heated up. “I am the Emperor of Rome! Even if I appear here as a grand performer, I am a warrior as well! To just vanish while the battle rages on without me... I'll be damned if I'm going to go down without a fight!”

“So we’re going then,” Elisabeth said. 

“We’re going.” 

A beat. 

“I bet I can take down more enemies than you, Saber.” 

“I accept your challenge, Lancer!” 

~.~

“NOOOOO!” 

The piercing scream of despair made Nero nearly miss her downward swing. Twisting Aestus Estus to make sure the chimera’s core was completely destroyed, she looked quickly — worriedly — over her shoulder at Elisabeth. 

Her Lancer rival didn’t appear injured or in any danger, the pink and white frills of her dress only slightly dusty from their battles across the empty plains and her spear still gleaming sharply. However, Elisabeth’s face was full of devastation as she turned and met Nero’s gaze. 

“I lost count!” she exclaimed with a dramatic sob. 

Of the enemies she’d defeated, she meant. 

Nero’s face twisted into a merciless smirk. “I should have expected that such mathematical prowess would be beyond your grasp. How unfortunate, Lancer! You lose!” 

“No!! I haven’t lost yet! You can’t prove it!” Elisabeth wailed. “We have to start over!” 

“Hahaha, how ungraceful! You should at least accept your loss elegantly!” Nero laughed. Despite saying this, she wasn’t opposed to resetting their count. After all, she was confident that she would come out on top in the end, no matter what a lively struggle Elisabeth put on. 

But before she could concede this, something made her pause and turn to look into the distance. 

“Oh.” Elisabeth dropped her showy dismay, looking in the same direction. “That feels like...” 

“Servants,” Nero said. And judging by their position... “Celtic Servants.” 

“Hm... I suppose we’ll have to put out competition on hold,” Elisabeth sighed, twirling her spear. 

“Whatever for? There’s two of them, and two of us — isn’t there an obvious progression?” Nero said, smirking. “Whoever beats their opponent first...” 

“I like the way you think!” 

They didn’t wait for the enemy Servants to approach them, taking off in their direction instead. The Celts weren’t trying to hide their presence, and judging by the feel of their Spirit Origins, they were strong heroes in their own right. As the two groups drew near, their appearance could be made out as well — two men, one blond and one dark-haired, both carrying spears. 

Both quite good looking, Nero noted with a faint smile. Not that it mattered, really, but those pleasing to the eye always did lift her spirits. 

“Here I come!” she exclaimed, dashing forward to close the final distance and bringing down her massive blade. 

The pair of Celtic heroes had slowed their pace in anticipation of some pre-battle banter, but they reacted quickly and seamlessly to her sudden attack. Although her target had been the blonde with the long hair, it was his dark-haired companion who stepped forward to meet her sword with one of his dual spears. His countenance was especially charming, particularly the mole under his eye. Her smile widening, Nero wiped the spell his face carried away from herself with ease. 

“Well done!” she praised him. “But how about this?” 

In a swirl of skirts and lace, she twisted in midair and drove her heel toward him. He countered smoothly with his other spear. Changing his grip, he turned the block into a stab, which forced Nero to disengage quickly — without knowing his name or his weapons’ properties, she was not eager to taste their tip. 

“Wonderful, a lovely display!” the long-haired man who still stood idle praised her. “We thought there must be Servants here to be countering our forces so well, but to think it would be a beauty such as yourself... Fortune smiles upon us, wouldn’t you say, Diarmuid?” 

Diarmuid, now that was not a common name... 

“Hey now! Don’t forget about everyone’s favorite cute idol, Elizabeth Bathory!” Elisabeth called out, darting around the stalemated pair to launch her own attack against the long-haired man. “How about I charm you with this hit song of mine!”

The man laughed, sidestepping and letting his own spear lock with Elisabeth’s. “My apologies, lovely miss,” he said smoothly. “Then, since Diarmuid seems so taken with your companion, it seems I shall be your opponent. Even if you are a bud that has only begun to bloom, it will be my pleasure!” 

“M-my lord!” Diarmuid protested, at the same time as Elisabeth hissed in outrage at being called ‘only beginning to bloom.’ 

“You— you scoundrel! I’ll show you! Idols are supposed to be full of youth!” she shouted, her tail lashing out at him, followed closely by her barbed spear. 

“My lord!” Diarmuid shouted. 

However, his attempts to evade Nero to rush to his master’s side were quickly stymied. “Diarmuid Ua Duibhne and Fionn mac Cumhaill, of the Knights of Fianna, I take it,” she said. “You’re fine heroes... but don’t think you will triumph. Yes, I am Nero Claudius, the Flower of Olympia! And what awaits is my glorious victory!” 

“Too bad, Diarmuid! Even though you can’t stand women, it seems you’ve found a great one!” Fionn laughed. “Make sure to enjoy yourself properly! Unless of course, you prefer to switch? I must say the other one is more to my taste...” 

He didn’t have time for any more pithy remarks after that, as Elisabeth screeched in fury and descended on him with all the power her Innocent Monster draconic traits afforded her. 

It wasn’t very ‘idol-like’, but Nero thought her feral bloodlust was also a little cute. 

Whether she could keep it up and whether it would be enough against Fionn mac Cumhaill, a man who had overcome even a Divine Spirit and a god... Victory and defeat were still to be determined. However, Nero was quite calm as she put the thoughts of Elisabeth and her rival’s battle from her mind. Her own opponent was in front of her. 

And what an opponent! Her smile grew wide and pleased. 

Not only a first rate handsome face and the powerful body befitting a warrior, but his spear-wielding was also outstanding. Every slash and thrust of her Aestus Estus was parried, every opening she might have left was quickly capitalized upon. It was a fierce, fast-paced dance where one misstep would mean a grave injury. He really didn’t hold back targeting vital points. 

Not that the injuries to non-vital points were a simple thing either, what with that yellow spear of his. At first, Nero had thrown herself into the battle with a certain abandon, heedless of any smaller cuts or gashes, but she quickly noticed that her wounds were not healing the way they should have. 

Unfortunately, some of them were just short of serious, and she had planned to rely on her skills to heal them quickly... 

What a miscalculation, she sighed to herself. 

Her beautiful wedding dress was already getting stained with blood. If she’d known it would be like this, she would have worn her usual red gown. ‘Should I ask him to give me a moment to switch?’ Nero wondered with full seriousness. 

She would have liked to just change dramatically without asking, but she could already tell he wouldn’t give her the opening to do so. While his attacks were simple spearmanship which she could match, they were relentless. It seemed his style was to wear down his opponent over time, without giving them the chance to use the kind of powerful Noble Phantasm that required a few moments to gather magical energy for and activate — like Aestus Domus Aurea. 

Not very showy, but a practical, solid method. 

“Your lord is very lucky to have a knight like you, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne!” Nero praised. “If we were in Rome, I would surely try to steal you for myself!” 

She was only joking lightly — a knight like that wouldn’t have switched loyalty so easily — and Diarmuid replied with a faint smile that made his handsome face look even more charming. Nero’s own smile widened in response. 

Then, the two of them seamlessly parted and jumped away... just in time. 

“Mac an Luin!!” 

“KYAAAA—!”

A violent stream of water rushed through the place they had been standing, as Fionn unleashed his Noble Phantasm. The interruption to their match was only incidental — his target had been Elisabeth, who was completely swept away and thrown about before being dumped out, battered and completely soaked. 

“You... you beast... you’re no gentleman at all!” Elisabeth sobbed. “My dress—!” 

Fionn cleared his throat with a hint of awkwardness. “This is a battlefield, young maiden...” he pointed out. 

“I’ll kill you, bastard!” Elisabeth yelled back, only to break off in sulky tears again. “Waaaah....” Nonetheless, her spear remained clutched in her hands, swinging threateningly. 

Their male opponents looked increasingly discomfited, but Nero only sniggered, knowing Elisabeth was just making a fuss because she could. When she got serious, she was far too tough to ever shed a tear. “My, my, Lancer! What an unsightly display!” Nero called out with laughter in her voice. “It seems the two of you are not compatible after all… Want to switch? Perhaps this knight here will be an easier opponent for you!” 

Fionn stifled a snicker, while Diarmuid flustered momentarily. 

“Not a chance! NOT A CHANCE!” Elisabeth shouted. “I’m not losing! You just watch, Sabeeeeer!” 

She had been about to yell something more, but all of them felt it at the exact same moment — the spike in magical energy, still a distance out yet undeniably directed at them. 

They scattered, just before a barrage of ranged blasts rained down across their battlefield. 

Nero  _ knew _ those arrows, their excessively pure, thick power and shining brightness. There could only be one Servant in this era who would shoot off a dozen of them just to make a dramatic entrance. 

_ “You!!” _ she and Elisabeth howled simultaneously. 

It was indeed ‘him’. 

Touching down lightly atop a low outcropping nearby, Arjuna looked down at all four of them with a cold, dispassionate gaze. Nero and Elisabeth stared back with outright disgust. However, the two Celtic warriors were hardly more pleased with the unexpected reunion. 

“My,” Fionn drew out slowly, his smile flat and humorless, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I assume you aren’t here to rejoin our army.” 

“I don’t care about your meaningless skirmish,” Arjuna said flatly. “Where is Karna?” 

Nero and Elisabeth had charged straight onto the battlefield after getting a bit lost on their way to the front, and their two opponents were the first Servants they had seen. And as for Fionn and Diarmuid, would they have the leisure to be dueling these two if they had encountered Karna, the foremost enemy general on the northern front? 

Obviously, none of them had any information for Arjuna. 

However, none of them were willing to cooperate enough to tell him that either. 

An unexpected united front of four versus one interloper stared off. Arjuna’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I know he’s here somewhere,” he said forcefully. “Where is he?” 

His only response was four flinty stares, making Arjuna’s expression harden in annoyance. His temper must have been even shorter than usual, as he didn’t hesitate to draw back another arrow and fire at them again, in a single, smooth motion that left barely any time to register the attack and dodge. 

It was four on one, and they should have had the advantage over him as long as they closed the distance — in theory. In practice, Arjuna was just as ridiculous as Nero had experienced before, able shoot off multiple arrows per second, each with the kind of unerring precision that made them appear to be homing in on their targets, even when he switched targets with each one, keeping all four of his opponents at a distance simultaneously. 

The fact that he was exactly as good as he thought himself to be just made him more intolerable. 

“Can’t you just get lost?! Go be a villain somewhere else!” Nero yelled at him, between dodging arrows. 

“Where is Karna?” Arjuna repeated, glaring. 

“I would think it’s quite obvious the Hero of Benefaction isn’t here,” Fionn pointed out. Spinning his spear, he deflected an arrow coming his way, forcing him to duck and brace himself against the explosion that followed. “There’s hardly a reason for us to conceal his whereabouts from you,” he went on, brushing his hair back. “It would certainly be convenient for us if you were to take care of our greatest enemy, after all. Although I suppose it’s just what you owe our queen for allowing you to join our ranks, for however short a time!” 

“I don’t owe her anything,” Arjuna declared, his voice dripping with disgust. 

“Just go away!” Elisabeth shouted recklessly. “We were having such a great time too! Quit ruining it!” 

“I told you, I have no interest in your petty conflict!” Arjuna shot back. “If Karna isn’t here, I have no use for you!” 

_ ‘Then go already!’ _ the same thought crossed everyone’s minds. 

Even Arjuna’s, it seemed — with only a last mass barrage, he took off into the distance. 

“Urgh,” Elisabeth groaned, slumping over in relief. 

“Umu,” Nero agreed. “What an irritating fellow...” 

Shaking his head, Fionn laughed lightly. “I feel a bit sorry for him,” he said. “Here in this second life, I already have what I desire — the chance to fight together with Diarmuid once more, side by side. Without being blinded by treasure, power or politics, pursuing victory for its own sake… This regret I’ve clung to has finally been settled.”

“My king... You…” His knight stared at him in surprise, before ducking his head to hide a smile. 

“I’m satisfied,” Fionn concluded. “But that man is so far from settling his own obsession that I can’t even be angry at his blind  rampage .” 

Nero could absolutely be angry with him, enough for all four of them if necessary. However… Fionn was right, in a sense. She was quite satisfied too, having performed and sung her heart out and now fighting against such lovely opponents with her favorite rival at her side. 

It would be a shame to spoil it with a negative attitude and the problems of someone that had nothing to do with her. 

Sorting out his issues was something that relied on Arjuna alone. 

...So he really needed to stop dragging everyone else into it. 

“Hmph!” Elisabeth turned up her nose, thinking the same thing as Nero. But she also didn’t add anything else, implicitly willing to let the entire matter pass. Hefting her spear, she pointed it at Fionn. “Don’t try to change the subject! I’m still going to kill you first!” 

“Very well. Let’s settle this, my dear, lovely opponents!” Fionn’s smile widened, and he mused, “There is only one one thing that could possibly make this battle even better. I know — if we win, why don’t you become my bride? ...Emperor Nero?” 

Elisabeth’s mouth dropped open. “Hey! Did you just casually pass me over?!” 

“Umu, umu… Well, I’m already dressed for the occasion!” Nero laughed, even though she had no intent on making him her chosen one. 

Looking between the two characters of similar temperament and shamelessness, Diarmuid opened his mouth as if to protest, then thought better of it. Somethings you could only accept. It wasn’t terrible, in any case, for their final battle to be like this. 

“Hey!! Stop laughing it up! Pay attention to meeee—!” Losing her temper, Elisabeth threw herself at them. 

And the clash began once more. 

~.~

**Notes:**

-And now for something completely different (lol). Writing a couple of idiots is kind of a relief after the slog of Chaldea’s section. I think I planned something wrong, but I’m not sure how it could have been fixed. 

-Title is from West Side Story, because it was a musical and because I wanted to put “Side Story” to denote the lack of the usual main characters. 

-Literally everyone ever, seeing Arjuna: _What a brat_ — Which is very fair!

-I feel bad for all the Celtic Servants. I didn’t really give them much spotlight. Same for the resistance team, really. It’s hard juggling so many characters! I have additional sympathy for the canon writers...

  
~.~


	24. Infinity War (Arjuna)

**Chapter 24: Infinity War**

Unlike the South Army’s concentrated, relentless push toward Washington, the northern front was a sprawling, expansive mess, where starting on one end, even an Archer couldn’t see to the other side. There were no clear edges to begin with, and nothing as concrete as a frontline. Even the flow of magical energy was in chaos, with so many monsters, magical constructs and Servants all fighting relentlessly. 

Unless someone used a flashy Noble Phantasm, finding one person was worse than a needle in a hundred haystacks in a hurricane. 

And even then, it wouldn’t be a guarantee, Arjuna thought with extreme disgust. 

This was a destined battle, so why was it so hard to make it actually take place? 

He had no interest in the monsters, Medb’s mass-produced familiars, or the common soldiers, but moving across the chaotic battlefields as a wild card, he naturally and continually came under attack from both sides. Arjuna returned fire without too much attention, absorbed mostly in his own annoyance and his attempts to catch a glimpse of that golden armor and those flames. 

Karna had to be somewhere here, and he would find him. 

He had started with the center of the Uniter Western States army, thinking that Karna might have been directing the troop movements and biding his time there, the way he had all through this Singularity. However, the only Servant there was a gunslinger, who had just looked at Arjuna with an improper lack of respect and something like impatience. 

“You see him anywhere ‘round here?” the man drawled, making a commendable effort at looking unconcerned. However, the tightness of his grip around his far too modern weapon gave him away. 

“Then where is he?” Arjuna demanded. 

“Dunno,” the gunman admitted readily and without any care. “Aren’t your senses better than mine? If you can’t tell shit here, neither can I, you know?” 

Since they were on the same side, then surely he would have at least known Karna’s intended position. There must have been some plan involved in their deployment. But before Arjuna could press further, a deep roar echoed from further down the battlefield, and the gunman’s attention was completely occupied. Shouting orders, he brazenly ignored Arjuna and took off toward the commotion in the distance, where a dragon — of all things — reared its head. 

Forget it. This poor excuse for a Servant wouldn’t be of any use. His legend wasn’t even two centuries old, what could be expected of him? 

His two former hostages and their Celtic opponents were no better. 

And the one after that was even worse. 

“How would I know where he is? We’re drowning in monsters and Celts here, I don’t have time to care about other people’s problems,” another weak Archer from the Western American army snapped. Cursing even more colorfully, he shot off several arrows at a few persistent enemies that had managed to stumble through the poison effects of the tree generated by his Noble Phantasm. 

There were certainly many monsters and Celtic warriors alike, but they were all pathetic. Needing both poison and arrow to take them out was pathetic. Arjuna sneered. “Your arrows are lacking,” he said coldly. 

“Yeah, I don’t care,” the green Archer said flatly. “If you’re not going to kill me, and you’re not going to kill them, could you leave me to my job? Some of us are fighting for the fate of humanity here, you know?” 

Killing him was tempting. However, he had the look of a cockroach, so there was no telling how long it would take to actually do so. 

“I’m not helping you. I have no interest in the fate of humanity,” Arjuna shot back, and resumed his trek. 

And then finally—

He found him. 

The sudden spike of magical energy, pure and burning, was unmistakable. A bright tail of flame marked where Karna had swung his spear in a great half circle, in the distance, knocking away a crowd of enemies. More closed ranks around him, but Karna fought on relentlessly, without giving ground or easing up on his assault. No doubt, he had been fighting like that from the start and would continue to fight without pause. 

He had been like that in the Kurukshetra War as well, Arjuna thought. Facing him had been a death sentence for everyone except perhaps Arjuna himself, and even he...

Back then, he had felt something like fear. There had always been some hesitation toward Karna, in his heart if not outwardly. Maybe he had felt it from long before the war as well. From the very beginning, when they first saw each other. 

And maybe that was another reason why he had—

Coldly shutting the thought away, Arjuna raised his bow. 

He didn’t shoot at Karna’s back. It would have been meaningless — without betrayal, trickery and curses to weigh him down, a warrior of Karna’s caliber would have defended himself easily. Instead, Gandiva’s burning arrows rained down around him, a trail of explosions leaving the area suddenly, startlingly clear of enemies. 

Karna straightened, turning to look at Arjuna’s approaching figure calmly and without expression. 

“...You’ve come,” he noted as Arjuna stepped up across from him, just far enough apart to not be within immediate reach. 

“Of course,” Arjuna said. “Each time I am summoned to a Holy Grail War as a Servant, it seems I always end up searching for you. Here, before the end of this world, I will settle things with you once and for all.” 

Studying him in that far too piercing way, Karna asked finally, “You don’t believe this world can be saved?” 

Arjuna frowned, easily suspecting the direction of this conversation — and feeling a vague itch at that premonition. “My only desire is to defeat you. I don’t know the fate of this world, and I do not concern myself with such. If it is to perish, it shall perish,” he said. And, inexorably, he took the next step in that conversation, “...Yet, you attempt to save it.”

“I was summoned for that reason. It is what a Servant should do,” Karna replied. “The true nature of the Heroic Spirit Summoning ritual is not the Holy Grail War where to fight for our gain, but a battle against destruction, for the sake of the future. For the people who still live and fight for their future, we must lend our strength. We were given this power for that purpose.” 

With a sharp, mirthless chuckle, Arjuna shot back, “If that is what you choose, then I will choose the opposite! Then I’ll aim to destroy it! I—”

“That’s wrong,” Karna said with uncharacteristic sharpness, cutting him off. 

Arjuna stared, momentarily too surprised to feel anything else. Karna stared back, seemingly taken aback by his own words. 

“...What?” Arjuna managed finally, his eyes narrowing. 

“That is wrong,” Karna repeated, sweeping away any uncertainty he might have felt and nodding firmly. “It would not suit you at all. You are, and have always been, a great hero. To indulge in this obsession to the point of losing your path, to cross the line and go as far as to turn against the world, is a mistake that will become another great burden upon you.”

_ ‘But even so, I wanted to tell you this. If you continue, you’ll be making a mistake!’ _

This was... the same thing Sita had told him. The irritating itch in his chest grew hotter, along with a strangely hollow feeling. 

His jaw ached with how heavily he’d gritted his teeth. 

“Oh? You think you know me so well?” Arjuna bit out. “Even you, with those eyes, think like that...” 

Karna blinked slowly. “Of course,” he said. “I have always watched you closely. To me as well, you have been an inescapable fixation.” 

...Whatever Arjuna had expected, it was not that. 

So they were the same...? That was... 

No, they weren’t alike at all. That was precisely why Arjuna could not accept Karna’s existence. That was why he had to eliminate him completely. 

“I too desire a battle with you,” Karna went on. “It is my own, selfish wish. I have always desired it — to throw myself against you without holding anything back would be... Yes, to me, it was the proof of my existence and worth. If I have a regret, it is that our battle was decided by so many outside forces.” 

“Decided by outside forces...? That’s what you’re calling it?!” 

“It was a war of countless grudges,” Karna said, undeterred by Arjuna’s fury. “I made many mistakes, and so did you. It was the same for everyone, no one remained free of sin. Those things, I have accepted. But if you cannot do the same, that is fine as well.” 

“I haven’t forgiven you for any of it,” Arjuna said coldly. “I hate you.” 

Karna nodded. “That’s only natural.” 

“I’m going to kill you,” Arjuna insisted. 

“It may be so. As a warrior, I will gladly place my life on the line against you,” Karna said. “However... I cannot give my life here, when there is still a duty I must fulfill. Thus, we have returned to the same point. Arjuna — we will surely cross paths again. But this world will vanish if we do not save it. Do not stain yourself by turning against it out of selfishness. ...You already know what kind of indelible burden it will become.” 

“What the hell do you know?!” Arjuna hissed. 

It was absolutely infuriating. It made his blood boil. To say it was his wish as well and then to treat it as something secondary. To act like these feelings could just be set aside. To have  _ changed  _ this much — Karna had always held a strong sense of his own righteousness, but his calm self-control and acceptance was something new. While Arjuna himself—

However, he did not attack, no matter how his grind on Gandiva tightened in rage, no matter how much he wanted to wipe out the person in front of him. 

If he attacked, Karna would fight him, naturally. But it would be... 

_ “This isn’t how the two of you should fight. Is this really the kind of battle you want to have with Lord Karna? Rather than a duel between you, isn’t this just ‘a battle for the fate of the world?’ That won’t settle anything between you.”  _

Lady Sita had said another annoying thing as well. 

She didn’t understand, and she even admitted as much herself, but receiving that kind of admonishment from someone who had accepted everything else... Somehow, the fact that she hadn’t pressed again after saying her piece just made it sit more uncomfortably on Arjuna’s mind. 

She just didn’t understand. 

This was necessary. It was only after he defeated Karna that his heart could become clear once more and he could return to being the shining hero he had always lived as. 

After he defeated Karna... 

Arjuna made a sharp, disparaging sound. “The true battle for this world isn’t here. This battlefield can only stall the Celtic army’s advance,” he said. “But if you’re so concerned for it... I will defend it, once I defeat you.” 

Karna was right, in a way. It was what a proper Heroic Spirit should do. And once Arjuna returned to that nature, he would do so. It was a simple truth. 

He felt a small flash of satisfaction as Karna’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, his eyes widening. It was soured by the faint but unmistakable and honest smile that followed, as Karna regarded him with an obviously pleased look. 

“If that is so, then I have nothing more to say,” Karna told him. As he spoke, he spun his spear, the sunburst tip cutting the air, and a smile lingered on his face, turning sharper and more intent. “After thousands of years...” 

“...we’ve finally obtained this chance,” Arjuna agreed, raising Gandiva in response. A smile was beginning to stretch across his own face, and he didn’t care about the shape it must have taken, dark and bloodthirsty. “Not even gods or demons can interfere!”

“Upon my spear, upon my armor, upon my father and mother — I swear that victory will be mine.”

“I swear victory upon my parents — and my brothers.” 

_ “—Here I go!!”  _

~.~

It was glorious. 

The form given to Arjuna as a Servant, was in many ways inferior to his real self in his prime — many of his abilities were pared down or entirely absent, his power was incomplete due to gaps in his Saint Graph, his strength was handicapped by the preset statistics of the Archer class container. Against the opponents he had faced thus far, it hadn’t made much difference. However, facing Karna, he could feel himself straining against this shell, pushing against his limits. 

That was how it was supposed to be. That was the kind of opponent Karna had always been, even constrained by his own manifestation. 

A battle with everything on the line, where nothing could be held back. And then, on the other side, a glimpse of the way forward to go beyond his own limits, to become something  _ more.  _

Arjuna had no care for the face he was showing now. There was no time to think of anything except the golden spear constantly seeking the slightest opening, the flames pushing back against his own, and that piercing gaze — literally, at times. Shooting Brahmastra directly from his eye, this man was really… 

His rival. The one who always pushed him further and further. 

Gandiva’s arrows rained down without pause, each perfectly aimed and yet most often deflected, cut in half, batted aside, or shot out of the air. Even the ones that made it through didn’t give Karna any pause as he continued to advance relentlessly on Arjuna, his demeanor full of eager anticipation. 

Arjuna continued to retreat — not flee, but put distance between them. He was an Archer, after all. He had no other weapons except his bow, and while Gandiva could be used at close range if necessary, it was not meant for that. 

For a moment, the image of Sita gripping one end of her Pinaka and swinging it directly at the chimera like a club flashed through his mind. 

Absolutely not. 

Maybe as a last resort. 

In this battle, he couldn’t hold anything back. Not his pride, not any attempts at grace or nobility. Without curses, betrayal, and divine intervention, Karna would not be felled by any cheap trick. 

“Bastard!” Arjuna cursed heartily as the tip of the golden spear managed to slip past his defenses, tearing a gash across his upper arm. He didn’t hesitate to roughly drive his knee into Karna’s stomach, simultaneously driving the breath out of his opponent and pushing himself away again. Karna recovered quickly, sidestepping the volley of arrows that followed — and already closing in once more. 

Always closing in. Archers really were… a bad match to Lancers. 

Little by little, one drop of blood at a time, Karna was overpowering him. 

There was no room for anger or denial, for Arjuna to feel anything at all. He couldn’t spare the concentration for frustration, not when even the slightest misstep would be the end. He couldn’t form a proper thought or even be sure what he’d think of this — of the truth that he was losing. There was only a faint shortness of breath and a tightness around his heart that told him that, probably, he was panicking. 

It was exhilarating. It was a truth he had always known in some way. And it was something he couldn’t accept. 

_ I don’t want to accept this. _ But at least it will be over. 

There was still one more card to play. The strongest card, the one that defined all Heroic Spirits — his Noble Phantasm. 

Pashupata, the Raised Hand of the Destruction God

But when he made his move, he would surely meet Karna’s own trump card, Vasavi Shakti. 

Their eyes met, and they shared an instant understanding. Of course it couldn’t end before this. Without needing to say anything, they jumped apart. 

“Now, what shall it be?” Arjuna mused to himself. 

“Whatever fate degrees, I will accept,” Karna replied, unexpectedly. 

Magical energy surged around them, thick enough to see with the naked eye — to blind, shining like two suns. Materialized as Rogue Servants, without a Master or any external source of magical energy, neither of them would be able to achieve the full force of their Noble Phantasms. However, they would put everything into this final clash. Who would be faster? Who would be stronger? Whose legend would prevail? 

The air was burning and carried the taste of pure light with every breath. Both of them were drawn up, no longer standing on the ground that was swallowed up by their power, as darkness and light clashed. 

“Expanding sacred domain...” 

“Know the mercy of the King of Gods....” 

Just as the orb hovering over Arjuna’s palm formed fully, just as energy gathered at the tip of Karna’s giant blade—

— _ a sharp noise, like a scream _ —

—The world twisted sideways. 

That was not physically the case, but a sense of abrupt, extreme vertigo nearly threw Arjuna off his feet. No, he really was thrown off his feet, dropped unceremoniously into completed chaos. The crescending swell of magical energy changed direction without warning, no longer in the orderly binary star orbit between them. Whether an eruption or an earthquake, there was no natural disaster that could compare to what was happening. 

It was a summoning. Lightning flashed increasingly among the black clouds that had spread over the sky in the blink of an eye, and among the light and darkness, something else twisted and unfurled. 

A myriad of red eyes opened, and turned toward the two who had been caught in the middle of the mass materialization. 

This… was the so-called Demon God Pillars. 

Arjuna had never seen such things, but something among the knowledge imparted on him during his summoning twinged with the knowledge. Even one of them would have been an overwhelming force of malice and pure power, but there were ten… twenty… twenty-eight of them, his sharp Archer eyes picked out instinctively. 

The invocation of their Noble Phantasms had been completely disrupted, leaving both of them in a dangerous position from the backlash, and Karna wasted no time quickly retreating among the writhing twisted tree-like shapes of the Demon God Pillars. He wasn’t insane enough to persist in the face of something like this, no matter how close they had been to a resolution. 

Neither was Arjuna. That wasn’t the reason. But whether from his more extensive injuries from their duel or something else, he was just a hair slower to react. Or perhaps, for once, he was just unlucky. 

Red eyes locked onto him and several inhuman voices chorused something incomprehensible. Power and pressure coalesced, bearing down on him. 

There was no way to avoid this kind of widespread blast. 

It slammed into Arjuna before he could react, sending him crashing into the ground, his body leaving a deep, long gouge. Frustration and fury flared for an instance before everything went dark. 

~.~

**Notes:**

-I always feel so incredibly awkward trying to write about Arjuna’s inner thoughts, and especially his perception of Karna and their rivalry. Overall, I’ve tried to draw more from the translated mats than from the actual legend, since Fate tends to have its own take on these things. 

-In practice, the overall flow of the confrontation is not that different from canon, but I am super dubious about the added details. 

-I just noticed that Karna talks about Arjuna having an illness, in canon dialogue. He picked that up from Nightingale, that’s really cute?? What a dork. 

-Anyway, next chapter should be the last one. Finally!

~.~


	25. Endgame (Finale)

**Chapter 25: Endgame (Finale)**

Karna had always strived to be someone who could accept everything — both the cruel twists of fate and also any unexpected situation. Wasting time being surprised would get you killed on the battlefield, and he took no pleasure in defeat even if he accepted it. 

But even so, wasn’t this just too much? 

He had no way of knowing what had occurred in Washington, so he couldn’t put a name to what Medb had created — Clan Calatin, the twenty-eight monsters. However, he recognized what had been summoned. Chaldea had told him and the rest of Western America’s leadership about the Demon God Pillars they had encountered at the heart of every Singularity. 

No, even if they hadn’t told him, he would have recognized them. This was why he had materialized in the first place, he thought, and the knowledge had already been given to him, buried under everything else. 

But really. Wasn’t twenty eight of them just too much? 

The backlash of his interrupted Noble Phantasm left him slightly unsteady on his feet, but Karna was still able to deftly avoid several blasts from the dark towering, twisting shapes that had appeared all around the battlefield and hurried to where Arjuna had been struck down. 

He had left a deep crater, the ground shattered around him into jagged outcroppings and crevices. His usually pristine outfit had already been ripped and stained with blood from their duel, but now it was completely ruined. He wasn’t moving — but he also wasn’t dissolving, so he must have simply been knocked unconscious by the blow. 

‘However, this is no place for a nap,’ Karna thought with absolute seriousness. 

Dodging several more waves of malicious energy, the deep, inhuman voices of the Demon God Pillars chorusing around him, Karna moved quickly to Arjuna’s side. His rival groaned as he was dragged out of the hole he’d made and peered at Karna with a bleary scowl. 

“Don’t… touch me…” he complained, making a weak motion that might have been intended to throw Karna off. 

“Unfortunately, I must,” Karna replied. 

Ignoring any further complaints Arjuna might have had, he dragged his rival up and quickly moved further from the epicenter of the Demon God Pillar summoning. There was no even pattern to where the twenty eight beings had appeared, but even without fleeing completely, he was able to find an area that was at least out of their immediate range. 

Carefully, he steadied Arjuna on his feet and took stock of his condition. 

It was… not good. 

“You’ve got some nerve,” Arjuna hissed. “Get your hands off me!” 

He glared balefully, though with only one eye, unable to open the other as blood ran down the side of his face. The entire left side of his body was in a similar state. His arm, his leg, and even his torso had been partially crushed, either by the Demon God Pillars’ attacks or when he had crashed into the ground. He was only barely able to remain upright, to say nothing of resuming combat. 

Even though they had been only moments from deciding the outcome, their duel was over... this time, at least. 

Judging by the resentful crease of his eyebrows and the tightening of his jaw, Arjuna knew it too, no matter how much he hated it. Karna couldn’t help softening slightly. To him, it was disappointing, but to Arjuna... the unresolved matters between them were a great burden on him. 

“I need to go,” Karna felt compelled to say, even though he knew that his words wouldn’t be appreciated. “We will... settle this next time, in the next Holy Grail War.” 

He turned away, ready to throw himself into battle again without hesitation. There was no choice. If the northern front collapsed, America would be as good as lost and the entire Singularity would crumble. Whether it was holding back the advance of the Celtic army or slowing the destruction caused by the Demon God Pillars, he had given his word to make a stand here. 

However, before he could depart, a hand clamped down on his forearm, pulling him back. It was slick with warm blood and the grip was weak, but Karna didn’t shake it off. 

“I need to go,” he repeated calmly. 

Arjuna shook his head, his lips pursed, whether with frustration or pain. “I can’t accept it,” he ground out. “I’m not like you. I can’t accept this kind of ending!” 

He couldn’t accept machinations outside their control rendering their duel meaningless — again. Nor could he accept being sidelined so completely, just watching, unable to fight, as his rival marched into battle. 

Understanding this, Karna only asked, “So then, what will you do?” 

Arjuna was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched as he struggled with his answer. Not because he didn’t know — he had already decided. There was only one thing he could do. It was just something he didn’t want to admit. Because... 

“I’m not helping you,” he declared, fixing Karna with a steely look. “This isn’t cooperation! I wouldn’t fight beside you!” Drawing himself up, he said firmly, “I’m just going on ahead. Next time, we’ll settle this!” 

He jabbed his finger threateningly at Karna, as if there was some disagreement on this. Without waiting for Karna’s response, he turned away and held out his hand, palm turned up to the dark, stormy sky. Despite everything, it didn’t tremble even slightly, and the same fierce, pure magical energy as always began to gather around him, like a newly formed star. 

“Expanding sacred domain,” Arjuna intoned. “Domain secured...”

Karna backed away a step, but no further. He could tell he was not among those being targeted. He had taken them out of the Demon God Pillars’ immediate range, and that would have normally made it impossible to target them even with Arjuna’s Noble Phantasm. But Arjuna had no intention of holding anything back, even if it meant burning up his Spirit Origin directly, and the darkness of the ‘sacred domain’ spread outward toward the horizon. 

“Divine punishment enforcement limits... All approved.”

His voice was steady despite everything, and even despite being so badly wounded and on the verge of disappearing, his back remained straight and proud, a dashing figure. As a hero, he had always remained unmatched. 

He really was much better at that sort of thing than Karna. 

“By the wrath of Shiva, here ends thy life. 

_ “Pashupata!” _

The glowing sphere over his hand vanished, reappearing in the midst of the unnatural, twisted shapes of the Demon God Pillars. It pulled everything toward itself, momentarily distorting the world around it — and then ruptured, its power washing over the battlefield. 

Bracing himself against the shockwave that followed, Karna tore his eyes away from the blinding destruction. There was no need for him to watch the outcome. Instead, he looked at Arjuna, whose body was already beginning to dissolve into golden light. 

Arjuna turned and met his eyes. His voice couldn’t be heard over the chaos, but Karna could read the words on his lips. 

‘Next time, I’ll end you!’ 

He nodded seriously. “I’ll be waiting,” he replied. 

The final burst of Pashupata’s power made everything around them tremble and strain, blinding Karna momentarily. When he finally managed to blink the spots from his eyes and straighten once more, he was already alone. 

Going on ahead indeed. 

He pushed back a complicated, tangled feeling that settled in his chest. They would meet again. It was surely their fate. At one point, Karna had feared it would not occur for so long that their old history would have been ground away by the repeated battles and incarnations, but he realized now that Arjuna was not the type to ever forget. Just one glimpse of Karna’s face would remind him of all his passions. 

They would fight again. Perhaps, as Arjuna wished, they would settle their score. No matter the outcome, Karna would accept it — welcome it. To be able to see the full extent of Arjuna’s capacity and to push himself to his own limit as well was his single lingering, selfish desire. 

They would fight again, because he would ensure there would be a next time. The world and its history wouldn’t end here. 

Lifting his golden spear, Karna turned back to the battlefield, torn up and ravaged like a scene from hell... but still not empty. 

The Raised Hand of the Destruction God was a weapon granted to Arjuna by Shiva himself, the one who governed over destruction and creation. However, it was still not an absolute power. Its true nature was not an area attack, but rather a check against every enemy in range to allow each one to attain ‘moksha’ should they fail — in other words, instant death. 

Of the twenty eight Demon God Pillars, more than half had failed and were completely wiped out. 

Unfortunately, the probability of attaining moksha was increased by Divinity, and the Demon God Pillars were the opposite, demonic beings closer to anti-heroes. The probability for their destruction had been lowered as a result, and some had managed to survive. 

Karna just needed to finish what Arjuna had started. Whether defeating the remaining ones completely, or simply holding them at bay for the battle at Washington to end — because he had no doubt the final battle was underway. 

He clicked his tongue, faintly displeased that there were less than fourteen left. If they had split it half and half, it would have been the best. 

This feeling of being outdone and his own annoyance at it, only Arjuna could prompt such things in him, even though it hadn’t even been a competition to begin with. 

...A competition. Now there was a thought. 

For them, fighting together was impossible. Karna had made it so when he rejected Kunti and Krishna’s offer to join the Pandavas. No matter how unfortunate, he did not regret his choice. He still believed in the reasons he had given for his refusal. If he had turned his back on the people who had supported him in his life, he would not have deserved to walk under his father’s light and warmth — even if it meant he would continue to be hated by Arjuna and others. 

But a competition, that was a different thing, wasn’t it? That would make them rivals, not allies, racing to see who could kill the most enemies. Every kshatriya warrior had done it before. 

Neither fight together nor opposing each other... It would not be what she desired and envisioned, but...

Karna smiled lightly, and threw himself into the fray. 

Next time. 

~.~

The northern front did not collapse. 

It was hard to tell the passage of time in pitched battle, every moment seemingly infinite, but Ritsuka knew that it had not been a short struggle. Even outnumbered heavily, Cu Chulainn continued to fight, growing stronger and stronger as his form became more and more monstrous by the power of the Holy Grail he had taken into himself. 

But the expression on his face… became more and more real. More and more like the Caster they had met in Fuyuki. 

And yet, even so, it remained hollow. 

The battle momentarily slowed again, both sides parting just to catch their breath and lick their wounds. It was frustrating, that they couldn’t keep pressing onward, but everyone was already at their limits. Helena in particular was struggling just to remain on her feet, even though she had remained mostly supporting on the sidelines with Ritsuka, but Edison and Mash were little better. There was a limit to how many times Nightingale could heal them, and that limit would surely come soon. But they couldn’t give up, not when Cu Chulainn was still standing. 

How many more times would he continue to stand up after their attacks? 

“Ah...” 

A quiet, unclear sound made Ritsuka glance sharply at his comm device. “Doctor?” he prompted nervously. 

“It’s... I can’t believe it...” Doctor Roman stuttered. “The ‘Clan Calatin’ at the northern front... all twenty eight readings have completely vanished!” 

“What?!” Mash exclaimed in surprise, her head snapping toward them, eyes wide in shock. 

"What?" Ritsuka echoed. 

"We, we were monitoring the situation over there. With the amount of magical energy circulating, we couldn't tell what was going on, but there's no mistaking it now," Doctor Roman explained, his voice faint and weak with disbelief. "It's clearing up, and there are no Demon God Pillar signatures remaining. But I don't know how..."

That couldn't be right. They had faced Demon God Pillars before, and it had been a struggle to defeat even one. The four that had appeared in London had been a battle they barely survived. Twenty eight of them... had Medb's summoning been flaws somehow, weakening them? 

Rama laughed. "You're underestimating those two!" he declared. "The heroes of the Mahabharata! If they combined their power, they could defeat even real gods, much less these twisted husks!" 

Exchanging a look with Mash, Ritsuka could only shake his head in disbelief. 

Even if he said that, it was still... 

Edison let out a roar of triumph. "As expected of my friend! And his rival!" he proclaimed with renewed vigor. "Your queen is gone, and now there are no Demon Gods left either! It's over for you Celts!" 

"Indeed," Nightingale agreed, looking across the ruined throne room directly at Cu Chulainn. "There is no point in continuing to resist treatment. You are ill. I recommend killing yourself, or allowing yourself to be defeated." 

Cu Chulainn snorted, unconcerned and unmoved by the situation that was undeniably slowly but surely turning against him. "I don't have room to talk, but you really are insane, aren't you?" 

"My diagnosis is entirely logical," Nightingale protested. 

"She's got a point," Helena cut in, forcing herself to stand straight despite her own exhaustion and level their opponent with a sharp, piercing look. "There's no purpose in continuing to fight. Your Spirit Origin is already on the brink of collapsing. Even with the Holy Grail, your materialization has limits. Maybe you'll be able to take some of us with you, but that won't matter. And I can promise you this — we won't let you have Mash or Ritsuka. So why don't you just give up?" 

"Why, huh?" Cu Chulainn repeated. “Because I’m the king, I suppose. I exist to fight. ...But even I can tell this is the end of the Mad King Cu Chulainn's role.”

Did that mean...

“There’s one thing you’re wrong about,” he went on. “There’s still one more Demon God in America. This will be the last fight… Good luck, brats.” 

The faint spark of hope — hope that the grueling battles of the fifth Singularity were over — was snuffed before it could even take form, replaced by a flood of cold dread. Ritsuka didn’t need Doctor Roman’s frantic warnings to understand what was happening, but there was nothing they could do. The distance between them and Cu Chulainn wasn’t wide, but the sudden swell of magical energy around him flung them back, not letting anyone approach. 

“O Holy Grail, manifest. One of the 72 Demon God Pillars…” Cu Chulainn pronounced evenly, neither triumphant nor enraged. “Rank number 38. The Demon of War, Halphas.”

His body had already been swallowed up, and something far larger writhed within the red and black mass that flowed out. 

Rows of seemingly endless red eyes opened and twisted before locking onto them. The voice that echoed out deeped and layered, reverberating down to their bones. 

“War will never vanish from this world. Weapons will never disappear from this world. Mortals are fated to continue fighting, turning like screws in an endless cycle,” the Demon God Pillar loomed over them. “I am the one who bestows conflict. You who wish for peace in your hearts... You are unnecessary!”

“No way... We're already at the limit of our power!” Mash shouted. “We can't keep fighting consecutive battles like this—”

“We don’t have a choice!” Ritsuka snapped, even though his thoughts were exactly the same. 

“I hate to say this, but I’m also at my limit,” Rama admitted, smiling tightly. “I’m almost out of magical energy. I can use Brahmastra once more… but that will take everything I have left. If it deflects or intercepts…” 

They would have only one shot, and the rest of their team would need to pin down the Demon God, setting up that shot for Rama. 

Except that Rama was the backbone of their offensive strength, their sword and spear. Two Casters, a Shielder and a nurse would be lucky to survive, much less keep Halphas in place long enough for Rama to strike. 

**_“——▅▂▅▅BLO▂D▃▅▃FL▅SH▂▅——!”_ **

The Demon God’s voice, too warped to make out words, rang out as its magical energy spiked. 

“Look out!” Ritsuka called out. “Mash!” 

“R-Right!” 

With the instinctive coordination they had learned after so many battles across America, Mash and Nightingale lunged toward each other at the same time, Mash planting her shield into the ground at the halfway mark and readying to cover them from Halphas’s attack, while Nightingale unceremoniously flung Rama over her shoulder and dove behind Mash. 

At the same time, Helena and Ritsuka, on the sidelines, retreated quickly to get out of range, Ritsuka all but carrying Helena as well — Servant or not, she had the form of a young girl, and in her current state, his reactions were for once faster. 

...That left one, Ritsuka realized too late. 

Edison had been fighting on the frontline alongside Rama and Mash, but he had ended up on the other end of the battlefield. Too far to reach Mash and Nightingale, too close to the battle to retreat. 

The Presi-King knew it too. The only thing he could do was brace himself. 

“If I fall, America will… That’s why! I won’t fall! NO MATTER WHAT!!” Edison roared defiantly. “UooooOOOH—!” 

“Thomas!” 

Helena’s terrified exclamation was drowned out by the booming chaos of Halphas’s atack sweeping through what little had remained of the throne room. 

Dust and shards of rubble rained down on her and Ritsuka as they huddled against the shockwave that followed. Ritsuka coughed, his throat clogged, and gingerly levered himself up, squinting through the haze of smoke. He could feel a breeze coming through, the roof having finally been ripped off completely. The rest of the White House’s structure was doing little better. There was another crash somewhere off to the side as part of the remaining walls gave in. 

“Edison! Edison, are you alright?” Helena called out, scrambling to her feet. 

Even as he followed after her, Ritsuka glanced quickly around for any sign of Mash, feeling the same trepidation. It was unnecessary — he could feel the line of their contract still active and tying them together, same for Nightingale. But even so… 

A voice came from beyond the smoke. 

It was neither the Demon Gods, nor Edison. 

“—Hahahahaha!”

Helena stopped in her tracks, abruptly enough that Ritsuka almost crashed into her. “No way…” she muttered, eyes wide. 

Vague outlines were finally becoming distinguishable among the clearing smoke and dust — Mash’s upright, massive shield and the three Servants crouched in its shadow, Edison’s bulk, crouched defensively but unscathed. The towering shape of Halphas. And... 

The figure of another man, in a dapper suit, gracefully floating down until he landed on a piece of upright rubble. 

His boisterous laughter was very familiar. As was the lightning that still crackled around his body, lingering from the attack he had used to intercept the Demon God’s shockwave. 

“How unsightly! How unsightly of you, Edison!” the man taunted. “You're ordinary after all, unfit to stand before me! Hang your head in shame, and begone immediately!”

Edison’s jaw had dropped and his eyes were comically wide. “...This... This disgusting voice… And this pointless laugh… D-Don't tell me... You're...”

“I'll tell you! I am the true genius, the one given the duty of pioneering the stars, I am—”

“Hysteric! It's you, Mr. Hysteric!” Edison yowled. 

The gentleman of lightning turned to give him the most disgusted, aggravated look Ritsuka had ever seen. “I am Nikola Tesla!” he bit out. 

“Nicola! You’re here!” Helena beamed. 

It was indeed Nicola Tesla, looking just as impressive as he had in London. However, his expression was subtly different, without the pollution of the Madness Enhancement that Zolgen Makiri had forced on him during his summoning in the catacombs. Although he still carried a strong sense of dignity, there was a liveliness that had been absent before — especially when he returned Edison’s glower. 

“Guh, nnnnn! To appear at a time like this, as always...” Edison ground out. “What a man with good timing you are!” He sounded almost complimentary, while simultaneously enraged. 

Tesla puffed up subtly. “Indeed, I have come to clear my debt! After all, I caused a bit of trouble in England. Edison... Just stand aside and witness the beauty of my grand lightning! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” 

...That laugh... was truly excessive. 

Ritsuka couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching. 

“Mmph, that laugh sounds like he's been practicing it every morning in front of a mirror! Such meticulous planning, fit for a genius!” Edison muttered, probably to himself but far too loudly for anyone to miss it. 

“Hahahahaha— Ulp!” 

**_“——▅ILLA▅GE▂▃——”_ **

The next round of Tesla’s booming laughter cut off rather gracelessly as he was forced to quickly scramble out of the way of another blast from Halphas. 

This wasn’t really the time for extended reunions. 

“It’s great that you’re here, Nikola, but I don’t know if even your lightning will be enough,” Helena said bluntly. 

Tesla made a face, but he couldn’t argue. “...Hmph. You already have someone who can do that, don’t you?” he said instead. “I simply have to keep this thing’s movements sealed so he can strike, no?”

“...An electrical cage,” Edison understood his meaning immediately.

“That’ll do it!” Helena agreed, nodding sharply. “If the two of you work together, it might just be enough!” 

They were both modern Heroic Spirits with shallow, still weak legends, so the chances of either matching a Demon God were low. However, both were able to use electricity and even shared intertwined origins. It made sense to Ritsuka, and he already began to nod along when Tesla and Edison made identical sounds of disgust. 

“My good lady!” 

“Blavatsky, come now!” 

They didn’t have a chance to protest further, as another sweeping blast from the Demon God sent everyone scrambling. By this point, Mash had made her way to Ritsuka’s side, Nightingale following with Rama still over her shoulder like a sack of rice. The great hero of the Ramayana didn’t even bother pointing out that he could walk on his own — he was exhausted, not gravely injured. By this point, he knew Nightingale wouldn’t listen. 

“Master...” Mash said, instinctively reaching for Ritsuka. She was pale and barely still on her feet after everything, but there was no sense of defeat in her determined stance. Taking her hand, Ritsuka gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. 

“Just one more shot,” Ritsuka told her. “Rama will hit the Demon God Pillar while Edison and Tesla hold it down. You cover them when they’re setting up their cage, okay?” 

“Understood.” Mash’s expression calmed and hardened with resolve to push through regardless of her exhaustion. 

“Nightingale, use the rest of my magical energy, and I’ll support Mash with a Command Spell if it comes to that.” 

There was a tug somewhere in his core as Nightingale did as he instructed. Healing energy washed over their group, letting Mash and Rama straighten as at least some of their injuries and fatigue were washed away. 

Nearby, Helena was finishing her preparations as well. 

“—see how hard those children are trying?” she gestured toward Ritsuka and Mash. “Look them in the eye and say your pride is more important than saving humanity! Now, you’re going to cooperate. You’re going to put your all into it! Understood?”

Edison and Tesla looked at her with matching glowers, but they also knew she was right. 

“Fine, we must work together,” Tesla finally capitulated. But not without a last dig. “Of course, since I have the higher power output, you sync with me.”

“If I must,” Edison grumbled.

“Good! I think I’ve got one more boost in me, and then it’s all on you,” Helena said. “Ready?” 

“Ready,” Ritsuka agreed. 

“Ready!” Mash stepped forward as well. 

“Ready,” Rama echoed, smiling tightly. 

**_“——▂YE▅▅▅▂▃DEVOR▃▅▅▅——!””_ **

Go!

Mash darted forward, planting her shield against the Demon God’s next attack. The blast of magical energy crashed against it, but Mash pushed back, flaring her own power to raise a glowing magic circle between them. 

Helena’s quiet, hurried incantation was almost entirely drowned out, but Ritsuka could feel its subtle effects boosting Edison and Tesla’s energy, which began to crackle around them. Stepping back, Rama held up his sword and began his own prayer. 

“The lightning storms of God are here before us! Now Behold!”

“Bring light to this world that has plunged into darkness!”

“The blade of the moon’s ring, the bow of mortality...” 

The longer the incantation, the longer the process of marshaling their magical energies, the stronger and more complete the Noble Phantasm’s activation, this much Ritsuka knew almost instinctively, even though he couldn’t say why that was, whether some form of the self-hypnotism used in magecraft or some matter relating to the True Name, or something else altogether. 

To penetrate the defenses of a Demon God Pillar, they needed everything they could bring to bear. And that meant precious moments where they were completely defenseless. 

There was no doubt Halphas could sense what they were doing. 

Its attacks followed one after another without pause, battering against Mash’s defenses. Her feet slid back a fraction with each hit, her shield shuddering even as she forced it to remain upright. Gritting her teeth, she dug in her heels. 

The touch of a hand on her back should have been too soft to feel through her armor, but it jolted through her like an electric shock. 

“Mash,” Ritsuka said, quiet but with the same firm resolve that had pushed them through so many dangers. “By this Command Spell, I order you... stand strong here to save this era!” 

The additional power from the Command Spell flooded through her, filling her up and bolstering her flagging strength, magical energy, and will. Save this era. Save humanity. That was their, Chaldea’s, purpose, and that was what Mash would fight for with everything her short life allotted her. 

Beyond the glowing barrier she’d erected, a myriad red eyes stared at her with malevolence. Mash looked back and suppressed her fear. 

“Deploying Noble Phantasm—  _ Lord Chaldeas!”  _

The force of her Pseudo Noble Phantasm’s renewed activation pushed back against the Demon God’s attack, leaving the two fronts of magical energy to grapple, evenly matched, clash, and finally neutralize in a blinding flash. 

It was only a split second. In another moment, Halphas would gather its power and attack again. 

But that moment was enough. 

With surgical precision, Edison and Tesla made their move. 

_ “—World Faith Domination!” _

_ “—System Keraunos!” _

Two colors of lightning struck around Halphas, booming and crackling. They branched together, forming a glowing cage. 

“NOW!!” 

Rama didn’t need the command. The spinning disk above his palm was released. 

“I shall dedicate this blow to my wife, Sita!  _ BRAHMASTRA!”  _

There was one final, inhuman scream, tearing through the massive discharge of magical energy. 

And then, deafening silence. 

~.~

A golden cup clattered among the upturned rubble. 

“We did it,” Helena breathed. Without any further ado, she dropped to the ground as her legs gave out and let herself fall backwards, arms spread-eagle. 

“W-we did?” Edison wondered, sounding almost disbelieving. 

“...HAHAHAhahahaha!” Next to him, Tesla erupted into laughter, though it sounded slightly manic. 

Groaning, Rama doubled over, hands on his knees — apparently barely better off than Helena. Nightingale habitually moved to his side, but she didn’t offer any treatment beyond a gentle hand on his back. She didn’t have much left. 

“Mash,” Ritsuka prompted quietly. 

“R-right!” 

Separating from their group, Mash advanced with hurried steps toward where the Holy Grail had materialized. It resonated as she approached, glowing and shifting, and slipped into her outstretched hand. 

“Holy Grail recovery... Mission complete!” Mash reported. Spinning around, she beamed at Ritsuka. “Master, we did it! We did it!” 

“You did it!” Doctor Roman agreed, his voice piping up from Ritsuka’s comm unit. “You’ve resolved the singularity and saved this era! Congratulations, and great job!” 

Waving to Mash with a smile, Ritsuka turned to look at the rest of their party. 

Now that the Holy Grail at the center of the distortion had been retrieved, it wouldn’t be long before the singularity began to dissolve. The time for goodbyes was always short. But, as always, Ritsuka found himself struggling to find the words for their allies. 

...Their surviving allies. 

However, heroes never did like bringing up those who went down fighting, he’d been told that often enough. 

Instead Ritsuka smiled. “Thank you, everyone,” he said. “We couldn’t have done it without your help.” 

Such a simple thanks felt paltry, but there was nothing else he could say.

Still bent over, Rama raised one hand to wave in acknowledgement, and next to him, Nightingale met Ritsuka’s eyes with a nod and a smile of her own. 

“No, no, it’s you we should be thanking,” Edison disagreed. “Thank you, Fujimaru, Miss Mash, Chaldea! Thanks to you, we were able to save America — and the world! Now I can stand proud as the man chosen by the presidents, as an American, and as a gentleman!” 

“The last thing you need is more pride and ego,” Tesla said flatly. “Nonetheless, I’ll agree this once. Thank you for giving me the chance to repay my debt for the trouble in London. And if opportunity arises, this thunder god shall fight for humanity again. Call upon me, and all  _ lightning _ will be at your command!” 

“Naturally, the same goes for me!” Edison hurried to add. “Just make sure I am summoned first, not after certain other individuals!” 

“That depends on luck, you common fool—” 

Helena’s laughter cut off their brewing argument. She didn’t bother raising her head or sitting, only weakly waving one hand. “You two, at least try to get along at a time like this,” she scolded, but the smile was clear in her voice. “We’ll all fight again — together, with Karna too — if that’s what the world has in store for us. But for now, it’s time to go. Farewell, Fujimaru, Miss Mash!” 

“Farewell, young Master!” 

“Farewell, Chaldea!” 

She was right, and her body was already beginning to disintegrate into golden light, fading away at the edges. Edison and Tesla echoed her goodbyes, swiftly following. Soon there were three fewer left along the rubble, and only four remained. 

“Time for us to go as well,” Rama agreed, gingerly straightening with a faint grimace that quickly turned into a slightly awkward, bashful look. “This might be strange to say, but I’m glad for everything that occurred. I was able to see Sita and speak with her, for however brief a time. Knowing that she is also fighting and searching for a way to reunite with me… makes me more happy than I can say. It was well worth getting my heart gouged out! —Ow!” 

The last statement earned him a sharp whack across the head by Nightingale. 

“Oh!” Mash gasped quietly, her eyes widening with some understanding that Ritsuka didn’t quite comprehend — yet. “I see… I’m the same. Even though this is a terrible situation, I still… had fun on this journey. I wonder if that’s okay…” 

“Of course. Humans cannot live without joy,” Nightingale said placidly. “It would crush the spirit to always do nothing but endure while suffering. And no patient can recover without the will to do so. We must find joy where we can. It is only natural.” She smiled. “I too am glad.” 

Ritsuka nodded when Mash glanced at him. “Me too,” he said. “I’ll cherish these memories forever.” 

Without conscious thought, he reached out and closed his hand around hers. It felt natural, after everything. Looking away, Rama chuckled to himself at their display, and Nightingale’s usually determined expression softened with indulgence. 

“Preparations for the Rayshift are complete,” Doctor Roman spoke up quietly. “With the Holy Grail's recovery, the era correction will begin soon. It's time to part ways.”

Not only Rama and Nightingale but even the rubble and ruins around them were dissolving into golden motes. This was a scene Mash and Ritsuka had already seen many times, but it still felt… there was not a word for it. The end, but also a victory. 

“Indeed,” Nightingale agreed. “May there always be light along your path.”

“There is only one thing left to say,” Rama said. “–May we meet again!”

“Yes,” Ritsuka said. “See you again!” 

The last two Servants of the final battle in America vanished into light, at the same time as Ritsuka and Mash were overtaken by the blue tunnel of Rayshift. The empty remains of the White House, the monsters across Washington, the army that had managed to protect their country, the future and all of humanity — everything soon followed, as history corrected itself. 

On the far away northern front, the battlefield that had been rent by cataclysmic powers already stood desolate, the demons defeated and the heroes gone. The tag team duel between two knights and two idols had also come to a conclusion. 

Raising one hand in greeting to the other Archer approaching him, Robin tipped his head back and took a long drag of his cigarette. 

“Got a spare for a partner?” Billy asked lightly. “Could use one myself.” 

Wordlessly, Robin fished out a cigarette box from within his cloak and held it out, along with a lighter — both far too modern for a Heroic Spirit of his origin. 

“...I can’t believe we made it to the end,” Billy admitted. 

Throwing his head back, Robin couldn’t help letting out a sharp laugh. “Right?” he said, his shoulders shaking with mirth. “All those crazy legendary hero types! Gods and demons! And two small time crooks like us made it through. Damn…” 

“I’m a pretty famous crook,” Billy disagreed. “And this time, we’re bona fide heroes.” 

“Yeah,” Robin said, sighing with a crooked smile. “It wasn’t too bad. But I’m definitely not doing this again. The rest is up to them.” 

Overhead, the circle of light remained unchanged — the strongest Noble Phantasm, still clearly promising the destruction of history and humanity. However, the path to Solomon had become one step shorter. Only two more singularities remained. 

And then… 

They would meet again. 

**END**

~.~

**Notes:**

-Re-reading America, I have so many questions. Like, Edison says at one point that he receives a message from Babbage, telling him not to give up. But how? Is Babbage in America too? Is he sending messages from the Throne?! And also, Tesla says, “...Hmph. I wasn't summoned by that strange man to defeat those things.” What strange man summoned you? Holmes? Merlin?? Speaking of odd lines, there’s also Roman saying that Karna appears the first time as if teleporting using a Command Spell, so does Helena have Command Spells for him…? So many questions. 

-By the way, Halphas does have voice lines, but I could only find them in Japanese and I’m not taking a whack at translating its really weird word choice. 

-As always, I really ran out of steam toward the end and only barely managed to actually write an ending. However, I’m glad that I was finally able to write a Fate fic, after so many years circling the fandom from a distance. 

-Special shout out to **D** , **CircleCautious** , and **Seasonal** , who stuck through so far and left so many comments. All of them meant a lot to me! I'm not sure anyone actually made it through to the end, but if there is such a hypothetical reader, thank you <3 

~.~


End file.
